


Challenge Five: Switch

by dragonofslash



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Summer Pornathon 2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-17 18:57:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 60,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4677653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonofslash/pseuds/dragonofslash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjoy the entries for Challenge 5: Switch, of the 2015 Summer Pornathon!</p><p> </p><p>  <a href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/19urZawAdxKZ75w7esdcmbAg0QAgSclkJI8WQ8cBPubw/viewform?usp=send_form">Vote for your favourite entries here!</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Group A (Warnings)

**Author's Note:**

> Pairings and warnings included in chapters 1-4.  
> Chapters 5-8 are repeats of chapters 1-4 without pairing and warning information.

**1.**

**Pairing(s):** Merlin/Arthur  
**Warnings:** NA

“Thank you both for meeting with me on such short notice.”

“It’s no problem Geoffrey.”

“What seems to be the matter?”

“My Liege, My Excellency, as you know, I’ve been gathering together stories of your great deeds as part of my duties as Royal Biographer. Both you of you turned in statements regarding the slaying of the chimera, however there are some…fairly major discrepancies between the two.”

“Discrepancies in what way?”

“Er, perhaps it would be easiest if you both told me the events of the night in question so that you hear each other’s tale.”

“Very well. Merlin, care to begin?”

“I think I’d much rather hear what you have to say first.”

“Fine.”

_Arthur kicked open his chamber door, carrying the swooning Merlin in his arms. Laying him tenderly on the bed, he ignored the sizeable slash across his own rippling bicep in favour of inspecting his sorcerer, mewling pitifully into the pillows._

_“Merlin my sweet, what ails you? Shall I fetch Gaius?”_

_“No My Lord, you are the only one who can provide the kind of comfort I need.”_

_“Darling, you are not strong enough tonight – you know how it takes a toll on you.”_

_“Please Arthur, I need to feel you inside of me. Only the healing touch of the king can save me now.”_

_“If that is your wish.”_

_Arthur quickly stripped them both. With expert technique, he plundered Merlin’s puckered hole with his tongue._

_“More Arthur, I need more,” Merlin moaned wantonly._

_“Soon love,” Arthur soothed, gently sliding an oiled finger in the place where his tongue had been._

_Impatient whine escaping his lips, Merlin pushed back against the finger, desperate to be filled by his king._

_“I’m ready Arthur. My body may be weak but if I don’t get your cock in me now I’ll surely perish!”_

_“As you wish,” Arthur acquiesced, removing his finger and slamming in with his cock._

_“Yes Arthur, fill me with your massive love rod.”_

_Arthur ploughed into him relentlessly, knowing Merlin loved to feel the full reach of his giant cock._

“Okay, this has gone far enough.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that’s not what happened at all!”

“If I may interrupt – I was actually interested in the slaying of the chimera rather than the, ah, bedroom antics.”

“I’m so sorry you’ve had to listen to this bile Geoffrey. Allow me to tell you the truth.”

_Merlin flopped down in the bed face first, exhausted from banishing yet another evil creature from the kingdom singlehandedly. Beside him, Arthur rolled over and ground his erection into Merlin’s leg._

_“Please Merlin? You know how much watching you smite things turns me on.”_

_“Fine, but just a quick one,” Merlin sighed._

_“Hooray!” cheered Arthur, ripping open his britches in his excitement._

_Arthur didn’t have the longest cock in the world, but Merlin was above such things and loved the man despite his obvious shortcomings. Using his tremendous skill with magic to speed the process along, he stretched Arthur wide with a flash of his eyes and soothed the burn with a flick of his wrist._

_“Ooh Merlin, I love it when you prepare me with magic,” Arthur sighed happily, sinking down on Merlin’s cock, marveling at its girth._

“Merlin, don’t insult Geoffrey by lying to him.”

“It’s no more outrageous than the cock and bull story you fed him! I do not _mewl pitifully_!”

“And I beg for your cock, do I? _Oh please Merlin, you know how much watching you smite turns me on_. And what do you mean _singlehandedly_? I seem to recall doing quite a lot of the fighting while you got your stupid incantation to work!”

“My Lord, My Excellency, please!”

“Yes, well done Arthur. You performed just as well as a dog in the bear pits, baiting the beasts away from the warriors. Oh, except actually your performance was slightly worse than that given that I got scorched enough to need, what was it, _the healing cock of the king_?”

“Healing touch. Clearly there’s only one way to settle this. A rematch: right here, right now.”

“Please not in the library.”

“Yes, I agree; it’s the only way. Geoffrey can watch and record the events for historical accuracy.”

“I’d really rather not.”

“Uncover your eyes Geoffrey – I command you to observe and report on this for the official history. Let it be known that the cock of Arthur Pendragon is perfectly adequate in size.”

“…Yes sire.”

* * *

**2.**

**Pairing(s):** Arthur/Merlin  
**Warnings:** Consensual D/s

Servant and Master

“On your knees,” Merlin commanded.

The latch to Arthur’s bedchamber door had barely clicked shut when Arthur obeyed. Dropping to his knees, he felt the stone floor seeping cold through his trousers.

“Hands behind your back. Eyes front,” Merlin said, sounding stern.

Arthur obeyed, although to his ears, Merlin’s voice could melt the coldest ice.

After a moment, Merlin’s hand landed warm and firm on his shoulder.

Arthur felt grounded. Secure.

Merlin gave Arthur’s shoulder a squeeze, but he did not linger. Instead, he lifted the crown off Arthur’s head.

Arthur didn’t flinch, although he instantly felt lighter, light enough to surrender himself to Merlin’s care. With his eyes straight ahead, he listened to the rustle of roughspun as Merlin stripped off his jacket and scarf. He licked his lips, hoping Merlin would remove his narrow leather belt next.

He waited, but instead of hearing the slide of warm leather through Merlin’s hands, Arthur felt Merlin’s fingers under his chin. Merlin ran his thumb over Arthur’s jaw, turning Arthur’s head so he would look at him.

“You’re doing so well today,” Merlin whispered.

Arthur wanted to do well. He sighed quietly, his gaze never leaving his manservant’s radiant blue eyes.

They began to play their role-switching game months ago when Arthur first realized that Merlin could help put the cares of the day behind him.

Merlin could always tell when Arthur had reached his limit in court. Today, the king had listened patiently while the villagers brought their complaints about stolen cows and tupped daughters, marauding bandits and failed crops.

In each instance, Arthur made a judgement, fair and just. He made decisions that would both resolve his people’s squabbles and ease the minds of the subjects of the realm. Arthur’s commanding presence, golden crown perched on his head and wisdom falling from his lips, earned him respect as the authority of the realm. But when the last of the petitioners left the great hall, Arthur was grateful when Merlin joined him as he retired to his chambers.

A nod of Merlin’s head at the chamber door told Arthur that he was willing to take over tonight.

“Unlace me,” Merlin said, stepping in front of the king.

Eager to please, Arthur slid his hands beneath Merlin’s tunic. He obediently unknotted the laces and looked to Merlin for further instruction. Awash with relief, free from making decisions at last, Arthur had only to rely on Merlin and he would be guided. There was no longer an opportunity for Arthur to make a mistake that might cost his people their lives or send them into destitution. There were only Merlin’s words to obey.

“No touching yourself,” Merlin said when Arthur’s palm involuntarily drifted to his own hardening cock. Merlin bent to brush Arthur’s hand away.

Arthur returned his hands to their position behind his back. He whimpered when Merlin cupped his cock through his trousers.

“That’s better,” Merlin purred, letting his fingers dance along Arthur’s straining hardness. “Suck me.”

Arthur obeyed, delving into Merlin’s breeches to free his cock, already hard from their play. With one hand supporting Merlin’s heavy balls, and the other wrapped around his length, Arthur gently pushed at Merlin’s foreskin and licked the gleaming droplets that seeped from his slit. Smiling when he heard Merlin moan in pleasure, Arthur hoped that Merlin would be pleased further by seeing his pink lips stretched around his cock. He took Merlin in, shivering at the feel of Merlin’s fingers tangling in his hair.

“You’re doing so well,” Merlin said as Arthur slid his warm mouth over Merlin’s cock again and again.

Arthur slowed his ministrations, seeking to savour the taste of Merlin’s pleasure as he came undone. 

“Almost,” Merlin said softly, a hitch in his throat. “Just a bit more.”

Arthur closed his eyes and sucked harder. He felt Merlin’s fingers tighten in his hair before Merlin’s come flooded Arthur’s mouth.

“So good,” Merlin murmured, as Arthur swallowed what he could, taking care to lick the remaining milky glaze from Merlin’s sensitive cock. “So obedient for me.”

When he caught his breath, Merlin took Arthur’s hands and pulled him to his feet. Arthur’s cock ached with hardness. He shook with the effort required to keep from surging forward to rut against Merlin, ruining their game.

Instead, he held his breath when Merlin pressed his forehead to Arthur’s and whispered, “Come.”

Feeling safe and loved, Arthur collapsed into Merlin’s arms with his release, his warm spend dampening the front of his trousers.

* * *

**3.**

**Pairing:** Elyan/Freya  
**Warnings:** n/a

“Are you sure?”

“For the fifth time,” Freya says, smiling, “yes. I am.”

“Okay.” Elyan's voice deepens, and he steps away. “Kneel on the floor.”

Freya kneels. All she's wearing is a flimsy nightgown, not much protection from the night air or the hard floor. The window is open, and the cloth rustles across her stomach, just short of tickling. She's already sensitive. “Anything else?”

“Well.” She can hear him moving around, pulling something off a shelf. “I wasn't going to, but if you're so eager, clasp your hands.”

Elyan sounds like he's humoring her, and it makes her neck prickle, makes her spine straighten. He's not going to be stern, and she wants to fight him, but she knows he'll stop immediately if she does. She moves her hands until it looks like she's praying instead. “Like that?”

“Good enough.” There's the sound of cloth rustling and then the hamper opening—Elyan stripping for bed. Freya stays still. “Are you getting wet?”

“Not yet.”

“Then we'll have to fix that.” And then he's behind her, urging her to kneel up with a hand on her ass. He nudges her legs apart, and then he puts his fingers between them, rubs her clit, getting her wet.

“There,” he says, when she's passed some threshold, squirming and making helpless noises, and then he slips away. There's just enough sweat on her skin that it makes her shiver when a breeze hits her. “Stay like that.”

She concentrates on her balance while he goes to where he left whatever it is he plans to use. There's the sound of the lube cap, and she clenches in anticipation. Elyan braces his hand on her hip when he slides it inside her. It's small, smaller than him, not the size to be a dildo, and when she's ready, he presses something into her hands—a remote vibrator controller, sleek and discreet, with more settings than she expected. “What should I do?”

He comes around in front of her, standing. She looks up at him, waiting. “Turn it on.”

“Me?”

“Find a setting that won't make you come but will get you close, I don't want to have to worry about it while you're blowing me.”

A surge of arousal, sharp and unexpected, leaves Freya gasping, and Elyan smiles. She tries the vibrator at its lowest setting, a pleasant hum that she could handle indefinitely, then turns it up, testing it until she finds a setting that doesn't feel too easy but won't put her over the edge. The constant buzz makes her feel like she's had a shot of espresso, a little twitchy.

“There,” he says, and reaches out to touch her cheek just like she touched his, guiding her forward until she can take him in her mouth.

Elyan usually likes slow teasing, but this time he goes fast. He fucks her face, and Freya is caught between making it good and the constant pressure distracting her.

He may not be going slow, but she still has to turn her setting down twice to give herself a break before his pace speeds even more and he says “I'm going to come on your face. Good?”

Freya nods and gives a humiliating whine. She can't speak.

He understands anyway. “Turn it up. So we come together.”

She turns it up slowly, as his hips stutter and his breathing shakes and her nightgown sticks to her skin. When he slides his cock out of her mouth to get himself off, she turns to the highest setting, the buzz so intense she feels like she's astride an earthquake, and comes as the first of his come stripes her neck.

Freya turns the vibrator off before the aftershocks end, oversensitive and overwhelmed. Elyan pulls her to her feet and helps her over to the bed when her legs wobble, getting her under the covers.

“How'd you like it, giving the orders?” she asks when he sits on the edge of the bed.

“Very much.” His mouth quirks. “I did feel odd, though.”

“You were wonderful.”

“Aren't I supposed to be telling you that? You really were.” He bends down to kiss her. “Do you want to try it again?”

“I think so.” She has a hundred ideas to try now that they've done this with him as the dominant. “Not too often, though. I'd miss it.”

Elyan kisses her again. “So would I. Maybe next time I'll get on my knees.”

Freya smiles. “We can arrange that.”

* * *

**4.**

**Pairing(s):** Arthur/Merlin, Morgana/Merlin  
**Warning(s):** None

"Uh-uh-uh-ah-AH-AHHH-Yes! Yes! YES!"

The sounds coming from Arthur's chambers were unmistakable and very loud. As if Morgana's nightmares hadn't been bad enough, now Merlin's cries of intense pleasure were constantly stealing her sleep.

The ecstatic screams and moans were approaching crescendo. Reaching for her largest pillow, Morgana covered her head. "Aaargh! Arthur, I'm going to _kill_ you!" 

When there finally was a lull in the love-birds' noise-making, she donned her robe, grabbed a candle, and marched next door.

Stepping inside Arthur's bedroom without bothering to knock, she took in the situation on the royal bed. In the flickering light she saw crumpled crimson sheets, pillows scattered everywhere, and two entwined naked bodies. 

The air smelled heavily of come. Someone really ought to open a window, but then again - Arthur's manservant _had_ been otherwise occupied.

She frowned. Were they actually _sleeping_? After keeping her up all night?

"Wake up!" she yelled vindictively.

Merlin sat up, blinked, yelped, and lunged for the bedsheets. 

Morgana shook her head, amused despite herself. "Too late to be modest now, screamer boy."

Arthur took his sweet time waking up, and made no efforts to cover himself up, the smug braggart. 

"Morgana! What's the meaning of this?"

She stepped closer. 

"I am here to give you an ultimatum. Either stop fucking, or move to Mercia. If you're that far away, hopefully I can't hear you two going at it like rabid bunnies every night."

In spite of the dim light she could see Merlin's blush under his dark mop of hair. The rosy tinge made his cheekbones seem more prominent. He tried to make himself smaller, burrowing into the sheets. In the nude he was extremely... fetching. How had she managed to miss this?

"I'm sorry we kept you awake,” Arthur said, not sounding sorry at all. “Merlin just cannot help himself when I'm giving it to him good, and who can blame him?" 

"Arthur Pendragon, you're such a conceited wanker! Merlin's obviously so desperate for it, he'd scream every bit as enthusiastically no matter who was pounding his arse."

"I would not!"

"Sorry, Merlin. I meant no offence... to you."

Arthur smirked. "You're wrong. Merlin always enjoys sex, that's true, but nothing makes him come as hard as when I bottom out in that lovely arse of his and ride him into the mattress. I'm the reigning Camelot champion."

Merlin nodded in pensive confirmation, his full lips pursed. 

Morgana was nothing if not competitive.

"There's someone here who could pound his arse _much_ better," she declared. "That someone is me."

It was Arthur's turn to blink. "You're joking."

"Not so cocky, little prince. I have bested you at swordplay before."

Arthur threw his head back, laughing. "Yes, but in this case" - he gestured at her crotch - "you don't even _have_ a sword."

"I most certainly do. I've an excellent blacksmith in my service, remember? Gwen has forged me a beautiful, fat cock and made a harness for it, too. And don't worry, it's been thoroughly tested."

For once, Arthur had no comeback. 

Merlin's eyes went impossibly wide. He emerged from his nest of sheets, studying her with sudden interest. 

Arthur swallowed. "You _really_ want to trade places with me in bed?" 

Morgana nodded, tossing her long hair back. "Yes, Arthur dearest. A tournament of cocks instead of swords and lances. It's right up your alley. And up Merlin's, of course.

She shrugged. "Why shouldn't women have fun mounting and topping?" 

Arthur was fighting to regain his composure. "It's not for me to put Merlin's arse in jeopardy like this. It's his decision."

Merlin didn't hesitate. 

"Yes!" he exclaimed, glancing at Arthur. "Yes! I'm in! I mean... they do say that variety is the spice of life." 

Arthur rolled over in bed, signalling defeat. "Very well, Morgana. You may try to prove yourself the better top to Merlin's little bottom. When you lose, you'll never complain about noise again. Agreed?"

Morgana nodded. "It's a deal. And if I win..."

Arthur chortled. 

"... _when_ I win, Arthur, we share and share alike from now on."

They both looked to Merlin, who nodded in eager agreement, clutching the sheets to his chest in pure glee. 

"Looks like that's a yes," Arthur sighed. 

“Tomorrow night, Merlin,” Morgana said. “My chambers. Be there.” 

She smiled sweetly. “My lord champion, you're welcome to tag along in order to watch and learn."

Arthur groaned. “Go away and let us sleep, harpy."

“Well, harpies and merlins and cocks are birds of a feather," Morgana laughed. "Together we'll soar to new heights!"

* * *

**5.**

**Pairing(s):** Cenred/Aredian  
**Warnings:** a/b/o dynamics, mentions of mpreg (none occurring in the fic)

Cenred woke up aroused and somewhat giddy for no apparent reason; rolled out of bed and snuck into the bathroom for a shower and relief. Aredian’s heat was still late; the doctor had reassured them that at Aredian’s age pregnancy was impossible and that all current and future irregularities were due to, well, age. Aredian had not been charmed, but his mind had been brought to peace.

When Cenred came out of the shower Aredian was _anything_ but at peace: he was panting; his skin glistened with sweat, and sperm had pooled on his belly, and trickled down his sides. Cenred breathed in the smell, and there was no mistaking it. His knot throbbed.

“So, we’re wanking separately now,” he teased, and dropped the towel on his way to the bed. Aredian fluttered his eyelashes but offered no reply.

Cenred nestled between Aredian’s legs and pulled himself up until his face was a tease away from Aredian’s ass. This close and intimate the smell was so strong it made Cenred salivate. He ran his palms over the insides of Aredian’s thighs and smeared the latter’s juices everywhere. The mess delighted him.

“You’re not going to try and shove that knot in me now, are you?” Aredian groaned. His legs tensed for a second, making it evident how averse he was to the idea. 

Cenred rubbed his inner thighs again, and pressed a small kiss on one of them. “Of course not,” he said, “But I will have breakfast in bed on a weekday. Take the initiative for _once_.”

He pushed Aredian’s legs up and open; flattened his tongue against Aredian, and gave him a hard, slow lick. Saliva ran down his chin, mixed with some of Aredian’s juices, but he swallowed plenty. The taste was divine: he was amazed at himself for not eating Aredian out sooner. He gave another flat-tongued lick, gluttonous for more, pressing his lower face against Aredian, and making active effort to make a mess. He vowed to do it as often as Aredian would let him.

He had been on the receiving end of facials, sure, and Aredian had been no exception, but it was one thing to clean off a spoonful or less of sperm off his mouth, lick it from the corners, and quite another to shove his entire face between Aredian’s legs. The rubbing of the sheets against his knot was borderline painful, but the overwhelming smell and taste of Aredian drove him crazy, and he licked him like a dog, his tongue flat and insatiable, careless for the dribbling down his chin.

“Open up,” he muttered between licks, “Open up.”

He pushed the tip of his tongue against Aredian’s hole and insisted, even of the ring of muscle quivered, and closed completely. He licked it again, making sure his tongue was pressed hard against the flesh.

“What the fuck posses- _ngh._ ” Aredian’s legs tensed and trembled; he locked Cenred’s head with his thighs. By the shaking Cenred could guess Aredian was stroking himself to orgasm, and he couldn’t do much besides caressing Aredian’s legs. 

Aredian let out a low moan and his legs clenched again and shook. He was tense and still for a couple of moments, then his hand hit the bed next to his torso, and his legs released Cenred’s head. Cenred pulled back a little. His nose was filled with the heady scent of Aredian’s heat and he realized there was no washing away for at least two days. The thought made him giddy again. He licked Aredian one last time, from his ass all the way to the tip of his cock (he was going to suck that as well, all in due time), and propped himself on all fours to offer Aredian a grin. 

“One way to start the day,” he laughed. He was going to worry about that persistent hard-on later.

“This is what happens when I let you take the initiative,” Aredian huffed, and rubbed a sperm-coated finger against his temple. His cheeks were flushed, but he looked better, and the urgency of every movement was gone.

“Am I that bad at it?” Cenred tilted his head to the side and gave Aredian the trademark puppy eyes.

“I’m not in the habit of finishing this fast.”

“You’ll teach me some tips and tricks for dinner, then.” Cenred pressed a kiss against Aredian’s knee and headed to the shower again.

* * *

**6.**

**Pairing(s):** Arthur/Lancelot  
**Warnings:** N/A

**Volgograd, Russia. June, 2018.**

He almost couldn’t believe it was real.

As the first notes of ‘God Save the Queen’ blared out from the loudspeakers, Arthur couldn’t help but grin. He’d dreamed about this day ever since he was a kid watching Geoff Hurst’s ’66 cup final hat-trick over and over on DVD. Not only was he playing professional football, which was pretty much the greatest job in the world, he was captain of the England World Cup team. 

Once the anthems were finished, Arthur led his team down the line of French players, shaking hands with each of their opponents as they passed. When he got to Lancelot, he lingered longer than was really necessary. 

_**Boleyn Ground, London, UK. September 2010.** _

_Arthur dropped his bag on a bench and took a minute to look around. He’d made it to the Premier League, the best football league in the world. Ok, so he was playing for the U21 squad rather than the full team, but there was still time. Not planning on wasting a moment of it, Arthur started to change into his new kit._

_It wasn’t long until someone joined him, taking up a spot next to Arthur. “You must be the new guy.”_

_Arthur held out his hand. “Arthur Pendragon.”_

_“Lancelot Du Lac.” Lancelot looked Arthur’s shirtless body up and down carefully before breaking into a smile and returning Arthur’s handshake. “Welcome to the Hammers.”_

Arthur felt the familiar rush of pre-match adrenaline as he took up his starting position. He glanced around the pitch, checking that his teammates were ready. His gaze landed on Lancelot and it was an odd feeling. Eight years and they’d never played against each other. It had always been a possibility once they’d both been selected to play for their country, but it had never happened. 

Lancelot spotted him looking and winked at him. Arthur smiled before turning back to face the French goal; his only target for the next forty five minutes. He couldn’t afford any distractions. 

The whistle blew. The game was on.

_The world may have become far more accepting, but football had not. Coming out publicly would have put an end to both of their careers and they’d both come too far to give up now. So while it wasn’t easy, they both had images to maintain._

_They’d been out in a club with some of the lads. Arthur had come back from the bar to find a girl straddling Lancelot; his hands slipping inside her jeans and their tongues entwined. It was hotter than he’d been expecting, to see the hands he knew so intimately caressing someone else.  
Lancelot opened his eyes and caught Arthur staring; winking at him over the girl’s shoulder._

_Later that night, those same hands were for Arthur and Arthur alone._

Sixty minutes in and it was still 0-0. They’d not found a way through the French defences yet. Arthur was not going to let his World Cup debut end in defeat if he had any fight left in him. 

Suddenly he saw his chance. Leon passed him the ball and Arthur had a clear shot on goal. Heart pounding in his ears, he drove it home, straight into the back of the net.

_“You were fantastic today.” Lancelot muttered as he slowly pushed inside Arthur. “They have no reason not to pick you now.”_

_“Can’t imagine playing against you.” Arthur groaned as Lancelot found just the right spot. “We’re a team.”_

_Lancelot kissed the back of Arthur’s neck. “We’ll always be a team. Football will never change that.”_

The final whistle blew. The crowd erupted, Union flags waving and vuvuzelas blowing as England made it through to the next round. They’d done it. Leon, who was closest, grabbed him in celebration while somewhere there was a BBC reporter commenting that only England would celebrate a group stage victory so emphatically. But Arthur didn’t care. They were one step closer to repeating the glory days of ’66.

Through the mass of arms and cheering, Arthur caught Lancelot’s gaze. He felt a pang that his success had to mean Lancelot’s disappointment. At least come September they would be playing on the same team again. Professionally, at least. Personally, they would always be on the same side.

* * *

**7.**

**Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
**Warnings:** none

“Merlin!” Arthur's shout brings him from peaceful sleep to full awareness in record speed. 

He stumbles out of bed, runs out of the bedroom, his magic flinging the door open and sweeping the house for possible dangers.

“What's going on?” he shouts out when he feels nothing out of the ordinary in the building.

He runs to one of the barely used storage rooms where he sensed Arthur's presence.

“Care to explain?” Arthur asks, motioning towards the no longer covered figure sat on the chair. 

That's not how Merlin wanted Arthur to find out. 

*

“Start from the beginning,” Arthur orders, his eyes darting between Merlin and the still figure sitting in the chair Merlin floated from the storage room. 

Merlin swallows hard. He knew he'd have to come clean soon, but he hoped he'd get at least another day of careless happiness with his freshly returned king and lover. 

“About fifteen years ago, the first synths were created...”

*

_Seven years ago_

_Merlin has been successfully resisting temptation for a very long time. The first models were still too inhuman, eyes too glassy, movements stiff. Resisting was easy. The fourth generation started the yearning in Merlin's stomach. The adverts aimed at the rich, offering a fully personalized synth. Two years later, the rumours about scientists working on granting synths emotions reached his ears. Still, he resisted for days, months. Until he couldn't anymore._

*

“I was waiting for your return for over a thousand years. I'm ashamed to admit it, but I lost hope,” Merlin says. “I knew my magic could do what technology couldn't. I was selfish, and in my selfishness I created a life.”

*

_Seven years ago_

_“What sort of coding is this?” David Elster asks, staring at the text on his screen._

_Merlin can't tear his eyes away from his creation. There's recognition in those unnaturally blue eyes, the only feature differing from original on otherwise flawless copy._

_He curses and thanks his magic for storing a perfect memory of Arthur in his mind._

_“Arthur,” he whispers, taking his hand, his eyes welling with tears when he sees the so familiar soft smile on Arthur's lips._

_In that moment, he realizes he went too far. He doesn't regret it. He can't regret it. But he can't let even a piece of that power in the hands of a mortal._

_He guides the scientists into deep sleep, adjusting their memories, before deleting all the files. He's getting really good at combining his magic with technology._

* 

“He's not you. He never has been,” Merlin says, “my magic put just seeds inside, used my own memories of you. The seeds grew and formed a new personality. He's still a prat, but in his own way,” Merlin says with a smile, afraid to look up and see the expression on Arthur's face. “When I felt your return, he offered to step aside and give me time to tell you.”

“Do you love him?” Arthur asks. 

Merlin glances up, ready to find betrayal written all over Arthur's face, but it remains unreadable. 

“Yes,” he says truthfully. He can't lie to Arthur anymore.

“Do you love me?” Arthur asks again.

“Yes,” Merlin says, first tear spilling down his cheek. “I love you more than him, and he knows it. He's ready to leave if you wish him to.”

“How do you switch him on?” Arthur asks after a long pause.

*

“God, Arthur, don't stop!” Merlin begs.

“Which one?” two voices ask.

He can see the synth Arthur's smirk, and he doesn't doubt the other is just as smug. 

“Both,” he gasps as teeth graze over his nipple. 

“Careful. Don't let him come yet,” the original Arthur says, driving his cock into Merlin's channel at steady pace. 

The synth Arthur's hand slows down it's slide over Merlin's erection, his lips moving up Merlin's chest to his collarbone.

“What do you think, how many times would he be able to come if we just took turns at fucking him?” the synth Arthur asks. 

“Gods,” Merlin breathes out, the words pushing him over the edge.

He collapses against the synth Arthur's chest, gripping his sides as Arthur fucks him through the aftershocks. 

*

His limbs still tingling from his third orgasm, pressed in between his two Arthurs, Merlin remembers the awkward night just a week ago. The hours of both Arthurs circling each other cautiously. This sort of outcome was unexpected.

“Can you do something about his eyes?” Arthur asks. “Otherwise nobody will believe us we're twins.”

Totally unexpected.

* * *

**8.**

**Pairing:** Arthur/Gwen/Merlin  
**Warnings:** Hints of body dysphoria

Arthur walks into his rooms only to be greeted by the sight of _himself_ fucking his fingers into Gwen’s cunt and almost spins back out again in shock. It takes him a second to remember that these are _his_ rooms and that is not exactly his wife and actually, wait a minute—

“Guinevere!” He snaps. Both parties on the bed startle, not having noticed him enter. 

“No, don’t stop,” Not-Gwen whines, wiggling on what should be Arthur’s hand. 

“Yes, do stop,” Arthur says, pointedly bolting the door behind him. It is the strangest thing to watch his own face go sheepish. “What in the seven hells do you two think you’re doing?”

“Having a bit of fun?” 

A small fire blooms near Arthur’s feet, going out just as quickly in his surprise. “Dammit, Merlin!” 

“Look, I’m sorry you had to find out this way, but it could’ve been worse, right?” Merlin says from the relative comfort of Gwen’s body, which, at the moment, looks far more pleasant a home than Arthur’s own weedy, magical misfortune. Merlin’s hips are still moving, trying to tempt Gwen into resuming the work of her fingers, which she does almost thoughtlessly until Arthur clears his throat. 

“It’s just so much easier from this angle,” she says. Merlin voices his agreement with one of Gwen’s purring noises, and Arthur almost starts another small fire when he claps to get their attention. 

“I’ll not have you two defiling the queen’s person!” 

“Arthur,” Gwen says patiently. “It’s my body, remember?” 

Arthur writes it off as some kind of submissive failure of Merlin’s that has him slinking away to Gaius’s second room with his tail between his legs. In protest, he ignores the uncomfortable stiffness in his trousers and tries to get the knack of making fire on purpose.

~*~

“Have you ever tried—?” Merlin leans into Gwen’s side, and whatever bug he puts in her ear makes her grin in a way that’s unseemly for a king at dinner. Arthur stabs at one of his potatoes as she turns her head to reply.

They’ve been doing an awful lot of whispering lately, and it’s becoming one of his least favourite side-effects of their switched bodies.

~*~

Gwen eventually corners him in their rooms while Merlin watches from the bed.

“When can we expect you to stop pouting and join us?” she asks. 

“I’m not pouting!” Arthur says, struggling to meet his own eyes. Merlin kicks his legs dreamily, hair sliding over his shoulders. 

“You should kiss him, Gwen. Works a treat on me.” 

“May I?” Gwen smiles, cupping Arthur’s face in her hands. “Just close your eyes,” she directs him gently, sensing his hesitation. 

It’s a lot like kissing Gwen, only if she were quite a bit taller and several stone heavier with muscle. Merlin’s traitorous body bends into her touch like a willow branch. 

“Told you,” Merlin says. 

“Your knees are naturally weak, Merlin,” Arthur grits out. 

“Whatever you say, sire,” Merlin says, taking to Gwen’s coy femininity in a way that’s almost eerie. “Now come here; we have something we want to try.” 

“Oh, I don’t—” Arthur starts, mouth dropping open at the way Gwen’s arsehole clutches at her — at Merlin’s slippery fingers — he hardly knows what he’s watching, standing at the foot of the bed while Merlin’s cunt sinks down on Gwen’s cock. “Are we sure this is a good idea?”

“We’re about to find out,” Gwen says breathlessly, bracing Merlin as he leans forward. 

As directed, Arthur presses Merlin’s prick to Gwen’s arse, carefully pushing until the head pops inside. 

“Ah,” Merlin says, the wince audible in his voice. “Ah that stings, keep going.” 

He moves as slow as he can, but Merlin is trembling by the time their bodies are flush. 

“You okay?” Gwen asks, stroking Merlin’s belly. 

“I’m bigger than I thought,” he jokes. “Let’s start slow, yeah?” 

Which is a fine idea at first. Merlin warms up enough to start helping with the rhythm, panting like the air is being punched from his lungs every time they thrust inside him. Gwen’s hand is wedged between their bodies, accounting for the increasingly slick sounds Arthur’s hearing as they begin to move faster. 

“Gwen,” he warns, the novelty hitting him just as the sweet pressure in his gut begins to crest. 

“Come on, Merlin,” she says, encouraging, wrist jerking fast and sure as he starts to shake again. 

“Fuck, yes,” Merlin whines, grinding and squeezing them both desperately. It shocks the breath from Arthur’s lungs, hips jerking as he spills.

* * *

**9.**

**Pairing:** Gwen/Morgana  
**Warnings:** Horror-ish (might be influenced by Silent Hill), implied character death 

_—when you sneak into the night and hear them,_  
don’t you count to three;  
better run away  
or they will see, see, see— 

“I just wish I could come with you,” Elyan says, shoving his fists in his pockets. 

Gwen sighs. “I know,” she says. “I need you out here.” _I need you safe._

“I know,” he replies. “Just… be careful, yeah?”

“I will,” she assures him. She waits for him to raise his head and gives him a smile. 

She then turns around and faces the mirror. She raises a hand towards it and feels the yearning to get closer. When she touches the surface she’s startled to see her reflection flicker for a second; the creature in the mirror is her but it’s _not_. Its lips stretch into a menacing grin and she gasps, she wants to pull away, but then she blinks and—

It’s over. She’s _there._

She looks around. She doesn’t think she can ever get used to it; the bathroom, murky and unsettling before, looks even worse here. It’s not even the uncleanness that’s bothersome. It’s the feeling that this place should be abandoned being overshadowed by the knowledge that it isn’t.

She glances at the mirror again. She thinks she can make out Elyan in the reflection, an unclear and distant outline of worry and fear. But maybe that’s just her. She sighs and goes out, careful not to make too much noise when shutting the door.

Everything in her screams to turn away, get back to the mirror, to Elyan, to her own world. But she can’t. There’s still this _energy_ she feels, a light cuts through the darkness and guides her.

Magic, she’d called it. Morgana’s magic. 

She _knows_ it’s Morgana’s, even if Elyan doesn’t believe her. She doesn’t know what could happen that would separate magic from one’s being and cling to someone else. She both aches and dreads to find out.

The magic stretches out now, covers her surroundings and maps out everything that she can’t see. She’s learned to trust it and move through halls blindly, crawl and sneak around in order to avoid _them._

She feels them now.

_—they aren’t here to comfort you_  
or listen to your pleas;  
do not waste your time and beg,  
just flee, flee, flee— 

She’s barely breathing when she reaches the corner. She takes a few careful steps, not even looking in their direction, eyes set in the darkness where she knows she’ll find a doorknob. She touches the cold metal and presses down, only to find it locked. She barely suppresses a cry before she composes herself and turns around.

Settled on going the long way around, Gwen takes a breath and takes a step back to where she came from. The air gets stuck in her throat, mangles with a cry when she slips on something and knocks her hand on some thing or other in order to regain her balance.

And then she hears them.

In her panic she reaches a hand towards them, then squints at the light that bursts between her fingertips. Instinctively, her arm flexes as if to throw something, and the creatures let out horrifying, screaming sounds as they quiver under the magic she’s shot at them. They all fall down, except for one.

The thing stares and them before it turns to Gwen. Gwen is ready to attack, but then she hears the whisper.

“This is mine.”

Against better judgment, she raises her hand to illuminate the hallway and see the thing better. The recognition strikes her like a punch to the gut.

It’s her. It’s Morgana. But it’s not.

It’s everything Gwen loves about her. It’s all disgustingly exaggerated. Twisted. Ugly. But it’s still her soft hair, her piercing eyes. Her smirk, her skin, the fingers that Gwen twined with her own not too long ago. The body that she held against hers, the hands that caressed her, the lips that whispered in her ear and got to know places no one else ever had.

It’s everything of Morgana’s. 

She takes a step closer.

“Gwen!” She hears a scream. Elyan. “Don’t! It’s not her!”

 _It’s not Morgana._ But it is.

The thing smiles and reaches for her. Gwen lets out a happy laugh and takes its hand.

_“Gwen!”_

_—if they do catch up to you_  
and you fall to your knees,  
don’t you fight it anymore;  
just join me, me, me. 

* * *

**10.**

**Pairing(s):** Merlin/Arthur  
**Warnings:** Master/servant dynamics 

_You’ve been working hard._

~*~

Merlin felt nervous as he re-entered the room from the antechamber, dressed in clothes finer than any of his own, with a certain golden circlet resting over his brow.

And it’s owner….

Arthur stood beside the table, already laden with rich food. He wore his simplest clothes – plain trousers and a white tunic, his feet bare. In a room only lit by firelight, he looked softer than ever before.

Merlin made his way towards the table, sitting as Arthur pulled out his chair. It was strange, being on the receiving end, but there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do for Arthur. And to see him looking calm and pleased? That was worth a little bit of discomfort. Besides, he did have his lover at his beck and call for tonight.

Arthur plated up Merlin’s food and poured his wine before going to his knees. They’d discussed this – Arthur wanted to serve Merlin for a night, but he also wanted to be more than a servant. They’d eventually settled on them eating from the same plate, Merlin feeding the blond from his fingers. From the slightly hazy look in Arthur’s eyes as he licked at his lover’s fingertips, it had been a good idea.

They ate in silence only broken when Merlin praised his kneeling love, a quiet “Good boy.”, “There you are, gorgeous.” Or “So good to me.”

~*~

_You deserve something special._

~*~

A bath had been prepared earlier, a hint of Merlin’s magic keeping it nice and warm. One of it’s better uses, Arthur teased occasionally. He didn’t tease now.

Merlin stood still as he let his lover undress him, a soft look in his eyes as he saw how Arthur had let himself slip into a calmer state of being. He stroked over his lover’s hair when he was in reach before allowing him to help him into the bath. 

Merlin groaned his pleasure at the hot water around him, relaxing back against the side of the tub. He couldn’t help but smile as he felt Arthur’s hands come down on his shoulders, his palms smoothing down across his chest, starting to wash him. He’d petitioned to have Arthur in the bath with him, but Arthur had insisted washing came first.

He let himself relax under his lover’s gentle touch, shifting whenever he needed to, guided by soft hands. Threading through his hair, scrubbing gently behind his ears, stroking down his body. Each movement thorough and loving.

Merlin was drifting slightly when Arthur finally stepped into the tub, straddling his lap. Arms went around his neck, fingers playing with the soft hairs at the base of Merlin’s neck as his lover settled himself.

“Come to service me, have you?” Merlin teased, opening his eyes in time to see a soft blush redden Arthur’s cheeks. 

~*~

_Let me go to my knees._

~*~

Arthur wrapped a hand around the both of them, fingers firm but gentle as he started stroking them together under the water. Merlin gasped softly at the feeling, leaning forward to rest their foreheads together, stealing occasional kisses from his lover’s lips.

They came together – moans muffled as their lips sealed together, breathing each other in as they slowly came down from their high.

This time it was Merlin who cleaned Arthur up, his hands just as soft and caring as his lover’s had been. He helped him back out of the tub, drying first Arthur then himself before leading him by the hand towards the bed. Arthur was tucked into his sleeping trousers, Merlin in his longer tunic, and together they curled under the blankets.

“Was that what you wanted?” Merlin asked quietly, his arm around Arthur’s waist as he nuzzled against the back of his neck, tucked up nicely behind him.

The blond hummed, a soft smile coming to his lips.

“Yes. Thank you.”

~*~

_Let me treat you like a king._

* * *

**11.**

**Relationship:** OT4 (Gwen/Merlin/Morgana/Arthur)  
**Warnings:** None

"So, Morgana's birthday's next week."

"Stop right there." Gwen held up a hand. "This had better be something _she_ wants, not something you want."

"It _is_ ," Merlin said earnestly. "Will be. Should be."

Gwen sighed.

++++

The shop doorbell jingled as they stepped inside. Gwen waved at the cashier.

"Oh hell," Elyan said. "Gwaine, swap with me! I'm not helping my sister."

Gwaine, on the other hand, was all too happy to help.

"We only have three brands of this type in stock, but we have six for the gents." He waggled his eyebrows at Merlin.

"No," Gwen said. "This is not some desperate penis enlargement."

"Sorry mate," Merlin agreed. "It's for Morgana, you know."

Gwaine grinned. "Well, that should be fun. Send her my love."

"We'll take this one." Gwen set the very sensibly mid-priced, well-designed brand on the counter, with a bottle of cleaning spray.

"You need lube? For the seal?"

"We have plenty, thanks."

Merlin carried the package out, whistling.

++++

"Meeting at the kitchen table in five," Gwen said, plucking Arthur's phone from his hands. "At least take off your tie, you've been home for half an hour."

"I just have to finish-"

"And we're done here," Gwen switched his phone off and pocketed it. "Don't pout at me, Merlin does it every day and he's better. Plusher lips."

"I have plush lips," Arthur grumbled, tugging her into his lap. "I'll prove it."

He was nibbling on her ear when her phone beeped. She stood.

"Five minutes are over."

Arthur sighed, pulled his tie the rest of the way off and draped it with his jacket over the back of the couch. "Yes, your majesty."

She gave him a cheeky grin.

++++

"Merlin wants to try something."

Merlin cleared his throat, dodging Arthur and Morgana's curious looks. "I, uh. It's your birthday soon, Morgana."

She blinked. "Yes, and you will all be taking me to a very expensive restaurant, which Arthur will pay for."

"Well, I was thinking for after, if you want...." He gave up and set the package on the table. "That."

Morgana opened the package. Her eyes widened.

"Oh." Her cheeks were slightly pink and her eyes riveted.

"Should we practice?" Arthur asked, voice hoarse.

++++

Morgana lay back against Merlin and a pile of pillows, regal as a reclining queen (a naked, damp, reclining queen).

"Can I touch your breasts?" Merlin asked.

"Gently."

Arthur waited until Merlin was trailing fingertips in soft circles around her nipples before smearing a careful circle of lube around her cunt.

"Do you want to hold the pump?" Gwen asked her.

Morgana nodded, eyes closed, so Gwen gently settled the bulb in the curve of her palm before settling the clear cup over the outer lips of her cunt, wiggling until she had a good seal.

"Whenever you're ready."

Morgana took a deep breath, leaned back more firmly into Merlin, and squeezed the bulb slowly. Her breath hitched.

"Okay?" Gwen asked.

"Yeah," Morgana breathed. "It's just different."

Arthur hovered, his face near the cup, rubbing a circle on her thigh. He looked two parts aroused and one part fretful.

Morgana squeezed again and whimpered. Arthur whimpered with her.

Squeeze. Gasp. Merlin's hands tightened around her.

Squeeze. A long, shivery sigh. Arthur's circles on her thigh became frantic.

Squeeze. "Oh, oh, Gwen!"

"Do you need me to take it off?" 

Morgana shook her head. "Just hold my hand. I'm stopping here."

"Oh my god, Morgana," Arthur whispered.

The lips of her cunt were flushed and swollen, filling out much of the cup like a dark red flower. Her clit puffed up, the hood pulling back. Morgan's face said it either hurt or felt amazing. Perhaps both.

"Off, off," Morgana said suddenly, and Gwen quickly broke the seal and eased the cup away.

"Wow," said Arthur, at the same time Merlin said, "Are you okay?"

"Mmm," she whispered, wearing that floaty expression she got after several orgasms. "I can feel my pulse down there, like you've eaten me out forever."

"Do you want me to?" Arthur asked, voice cracking.

"Gently."

Arthur leaned over and blew softly on her lips. Morgana shivered. He stuck out his tongue and dragged it slowly from her hole all the way up to her clit. Morgana let out a wail, clenching her thighs on his shoulder and shaking apart, arching in Merlin's arms.

Gwen caught her hand, letting Morgana dig her nails into Gwen's palm.

"I'm trying that next," Gwen announced, just to hear Arthur groan.

* * *

**12.**

**Pairing(s):** Merlin/Arthur  
**Warnings:** dark, minor character deaths 

Gunshots are loud even when you use a silencer. 

~*~

The child has pale blue eyes and a mop of dark hair and he is not supposed to be there. Kilgarrah said the mark would be alone, but Kilgarrah doesn’t make mistakes – it’s a test. Merlin passes.

~*~

He meets Freya in a tearoom, and he thinks he could love her. Her quick wit is never cruel and her smile is sweeter than honey against Merlin’s lips – and the sex is wild and he savours the marks she leaves on him.

It takes Merlin a little over two weeks to figure out that she is a spy. He has enough mercy to shoot her in her sleep.

~*~

Sex is generally the fastest way to bypass any annoying security his marks hoard in their paranoia. Is it paranoia if it’s warranted? It doesn’t matter; they die nevertheless.

~*~

 _I want information first,_ Kilgarrah says, and Merlin is a good little tool and seduces Arthur Pendragon. It’s no hardship at all because Arthur is actually gorgeous and secretly a sex god. Merlin has never come as hard as he comes after Arthur spends what must be hours fingering him open before fucking him beyond consciousness. 

Sex is only sex though, no matter how mind-blowing; it’s the breakfast Arthur prepares for him that makes him freak out a little. It’s only beans and toast and horribly strong tea, but it’s sweet and Arthur is adorable – that’s a bad word, Merlin is aware – with his hair sticking everywhere and the unguardedness of sleep clinging to his eyes. Needless to say there is shower sex.

He was told to learn things but he learns too many; how Arthur steals the blankets at night, but how he also tugs Merlin tightly into himself without fail, how he believes in honour and making the right choices, and how he struggles with the relationship with his father because while Uther Pendragon does not care Arthur does.

He holds onto the final piece of information for six days before handing it over. _It is time,_ Kilgarrah says and Merlin thinks _I can’t_.

He leaves his bag to wait innocently against Arthur’d bedroom wall. It’s empty apart from the gun and silencer hiding inside, waiting for their chance.

The evening will be perfect, he decides; he prepares delicious roasted lamb for dinner and pops a good bottle of wine. Arthur kisses him silly when Merlin shows him and it feels a lot like a little warm part of his heart is going to burst. 

They eat and Arthur smiles at him with his crooked teeth and praises his cooking. _Just wait for the dessert,_ Merlin says with a sultry smile that hurts him like he is cutting himself open. Arthur doesn’t seem to notice – of course he doesn’t, Merlin isn’t the best for nothing – and lets Merlin to drag himself into the bedroom. 

Merlin backs Arthur to the bed, forcing him to sit down and climbing up to his lap, taking a moment to bury his head into Arthur’s neck and breathe in his cologne and the underlying salty tang of sweat. Arthur chuckles, skin vibrating under Merlin’s lips, and Merlin smiles despite the sting in his eyes and rolls his hips forwards, causing Arthur’s breath to stutter. Merlin shoves his hands between them, blindly fumbling Arthur’s belt and fly open and then dropping down to savour the hard bulge in Arthur’s underwear. He noses at the fine fabric, mouths at it carefully, focusing only on Arthur and the little hitches of his breath. 

It’s not a blowjob he has in mind for today though, so with a pang of regret – never again, says a voice which Merlin silences – he retreats and they undress. 

_Can I?_ he asks, finger gliding over the globes of Arthur’s fantastic arse. 

He has done tender sex and loving sex and hate sex but this is something else entirely, something that breaks him apart with every loud slap of skin against skin. 

Arthur is gorgeous in his pleasure, the sweat-damp golden hair plastered to his blissed out face and Merlin loves him. _I love you too,_ Arthur says, voice heavy with sleep. 

~*~

The gun is heavy in Merlin’s hand. He switches the safety off, takes aim. Gunshots are loud even when you use a silencer. Freya had woken up. She had known. He switches the safety back on. 

~*~

The piece of paper Arthur finds in the morning has an email address and one word: RUN.

* * *

**13.**

**Pairing(s):** Merlin/Arthur  
**Warnings:** A/B/O

Arthur opens his eyes and blinks, slow and sticky, eyelashes all clumped with sweat. The bedsheets under him are rough and wet against his sensitive skin, like even that is too much covering. The air’s thick, so thick and warm it catches on the way down to his lungs, clogging his windpipe, sweet and syrupy. In the haze, he knows it’s his heat and he wonders what it smells like to Merlin.

He’s got his thighs spread wide and he can’t help kneading at his stiff cock with the heel of his right hand--pressing it on his abs.

He swallows, says, “Merlin, I--” with the words catching on his lips. He licks them, pokes at the underside of his lower lip with his tongue, spit almost slipping out.

When Merlin grips his knee, the touch flares under his skin and he widens his legs more, long low whine escaping him without his consent.

His gut tightens with shame. He shouldn’t--

He’s so _wet_. Can feel it seeping out of him, out of his hole, making him ready, _inviting_. 

“Jesus, Arthur. Fuck--” Merlin says, rough, and Arthur recognizes the edge in his voice, and the way Merlin’s rubbing his dick against Arthur’s shin, rut taking over. “I don’t--Tell me--”

Arthur takes a deep breath. Behind the thick sweetness of his heat, he can smell the familiar fir and pine smell of Merlin. It’s sharper than usual, crisper, and he guesses it makes sense, considering.

He tries to close his legs--he shouldn’t be this open--but as soon as his knees touch each other they fall to the side once more, like his body can’t stand to be closed off, like it needs to offer itself. And well, okay, that’s exactly what it is.

“Does it always feel like this?” he says, hand going past his dick, deep red and leaking, fingers slipping in the mess behind his balls.

“Like you’re empty and burning and need to be filled up? Like you could be taken apart so easily and would love every minute of it?” Merlin says. His hand goes from Arthur’s knee, down his thigh, fingers dry, to spread over Arthur’s stomach where he pushes and stills Arthur’s hips. He hadn’t even realised he was rolling them. 

“Yes. I--yes. Like that.” Needy and vulnerable. 

“Yeah. It does. It’s always like that.”

There’s something reassuring in that. Knowing that what’s happening is normal, not some freak overloading because he’s an Alpha having an Omega heat. Knowing that Merlin goes through that all the time and is fine, loves it, even.

Merlin scoots closer between Arthur’s legs, knees sliding noisily on the sheets, one hand wrapped around the base of his dick, right where Arthur knows the knot must have started to swell from the rut, from the smell of Arthur’s heat.

“It feels less overwhelming like this,” Merlins says, and leans down, covers Arthur’s body with his own.

He’s right, of course. Arthur does it for him all the time. The skin contact calms Arthur almost instantly even if it makes the need inside of him burn brighter. Wet falls out of him even more, his thighs and arse tacky with it. 

“Does it always hurt like that?” Merlin asks, lips catching on Arthur’s jaw, voice shivery and low.

Arthur remembers how difficult it is at first to contain, to keep from just taking. Remembers the achy, burning stretch of the knot at the beginning, when the body isn’t used to it.

“It’ll feel better once it’s inside,” Arthur says.

Merlin ruts, moves against him like he’s fucking him already. He pushes his dick down so it rubs between Arthur’s arsecheeks, slicks it good, then slides it into the groove of Arthur’s hip, full knot knocking Arthur’s balls.

“Yeah?” Merlin says. “Is that--? Are you sure? I don’t know if--”

The haze of the heat made it easy to forget that Merlin’s never done this before, either. That he’s as turned inside out as Arthur. Rut where there used to be heat. Slick where there used to be knot.

He wraps his arms around Merlin. “Yeah, fuck me. Knot me tight. Fill me up.” He says it like an Omega, and Merlin jerks forward, hips snapping like an Alpha when he hears it. 

Merlin helps him by pressing Arthur’s legs open, and Arthur helps him by guiding Merlin’s cock to his hole, to fuck in good. 

His body arches into the fullness, takes it so easy, too, like it was made for it all along.

* * *

**14.**

**Pairing(s):** Arthur/Merlin  
**Warnings:** None

"Switchboard, good evening, how can I help you," Merlin answered the call. The screen had flashed, informing him of an incoming call and that the caller had selected option 1 - which meant he liked to have a confidential conversation with one of the operators on call.  
Merlin was the only one there, manning the phones on Christmas Eve.

"Merlin, is that you?"

If Merlin had been holding the phone, he probably would have dropped it. Instead he continued to hear Arthur's voice through the headset. "Merlin, I need to talk to you."

"Arthur! You can't just call me on this number! I'm working."

"I thought this line was for LGBT emergencies?"

"It is!" Merlin said exasperated at his friend's thoughtless intrusion. 

"I _have_ an emergency, Merlin. I came out to my father tonight."

Merlin had been ready to give Arthur hell the second before. Now his jaw felt locked, mouth open and speechless.  
"What?" Merlin managed to whisper finally. He wished he could have managed a complete sentence, such as _"What are you talking about?"_ or _"Are you messing with me, Arthur Pendragon?"_

Because Arthur was his best friend and Merlin had been pretty sure he was straight. Arthur, who'd had a string of unfortunate relationsips with girls like Sophia, Vivian and Elena, had never noticed the way Merlin _really_ looked at him. Right?

"I don't think father likes his Christmas present very much."

Any doubts Merlin had about Arthur being sincere melted away. Arthur sounded alarmed and a little heartbroken. "What happened?"

"I just wasn't being honest with him before. Or with myself. Or you... And it's bloody Christmas, isn't that the time of year you should be honest?"

"A lot of people feel relieved, like they are no longer carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders." Merlin repsonded, remembering that he was here for Arthur professionally and his burning questions such as _how long have you known?_ and _are you seeing someone?_ just had to wait. "It's a good thing to speak up for yourself." 

"I don't need a pep talk Merlin, I called you because I wanted to be honest with you too. Because it _is_ you. It's you I can't stop thinking about. I think about those times I catch a glimpse of hard nipples poking out from under your t-shirt, or when Gwaine is getting handsy I want it to be _my_ hands that are free to touch your arse through those tight jeans. I touch myself when I think about you, Merlin. I think about all the filthy things I want you to do to me. I just didn't know how to tell you."

"Arthur..." Merlin whimpered.

"You're working alone tonight, right? Tell me you're touching yourself, please, tell me!" Arthur sounded urgent. 

"I am," Merlin agreed breathlessly, "I started to get hard the moment I recognized your voice."  
He'd rubbed his cock through his jeans at first but things had been escalating quickly and Merlin had gotten his cock out for some skin on skin contact. 

"I wish I was there right now so I could get down on my knees and suck you off properly. How you would like it? Would you want me to choke on your cock?"

"Arthur!"  
Merlin spit into his hand. This wasn't going to be a leisurely wank. He was painfully hard already. 

"Tell me! Do you want to come down my throat? Or do you want me to hold off at the last moment so you can fuck me? I have three fingers up my arse right now for you, babe, I would be so ready. I need to feel your cock slide into me for the first time. You'd fuck me so good, so very good, ohh...."

Hearing Arthur cry out in abandon as he orgasmed, sent Merlin over the edge too. He'd created a mess on his desk, the laptop in front of him was covered in spunk. Luckily there were no incoming calls or messages to be dealt with.

"When does your shift end?" Arthur asked after several moments of heavy breathing.

"Midnight."

"I'll come pick you up. Merry Christmas, Merlin!"

* * *


	2. Group B (Warnings)

**15.**

**Pairings:** Morgana-in-Merlin's-body solo, Arthur/Morgana-in-Merlin's-body  
 **Warnings:** Bodyswap, sex with someone who doesn't know the bodyswap happened, hence dubious consent issues of a complicated nature. 

It takes Morgana five minutes to notice she's woken up in someone else's body. It takes her another two, including thirty seconds of being dizzy from getting up too fast, unused to being this tall, to realise _whose._

Merlin's days are considerably fuller than Morgana had realised. She gamely attempts to do his tasks, though, as ordered by Arthur, who fortunately has a tournament to practice for and seems distracted. 

Merlin's body has a rather … physical reaction to watching Arthur clomping around hitting people with swords. Morgana can't stay out here like this, hard in Merlin's raggedy breeches, so she mutters something to Leon's manservant about cleaning Arthur's chambers, and beats a hasty retreat. 

Arthur's room really does need cleaning, but, well … the temptation is too strong. Morgana knows what mens' parts look like, roughly, from some of the illuminated manuscripts in the library, and she shouldn't, but … she wants to know what it feels like. Already it's different, strange, not the hot, tingly wetness of her more wanton feelings. 

She sits on the edge of Arthur's unmade bed to unlace her breeches, and reaches in. She shivers at the unfamiliar heft of the cock now in her - in _Merlin's_ hands, thin and calloused. The hiss of breath out as she strokes experimentally is involuntary. 

It makes such a mess. It leaks, wetting the shaft and making her hands slip over the velvet soft skin-over-muscle. She misses the feeling of fingers, though, the pressure-pleasure of being full. Before she can consider what she's doing, she lies back and slides her sticky hand off her cock and down to her arse. 

She knows men do this, although she probably should not. 

It's hard to get a finger inside herself this way. Even though Merlin's fingers are longer than Morgana's, she still can't get as far as she would have fingering herself in her own body at this choked angle. And it's tight, too dry, and altogether seems rather too much trouble - clearly mens' bodies aren't built for this - when one fingertip brushes something that makes her senses light up like a bonfire. 

After that she sucks frantically on her fingers until they're sopping, contorts herself into a bow on the bed, writhing, forcing two fingers up there against the dull bruise-ache of it, just to feel that shocky burn, the sister to the pleasure she'd wrung from her own body just a day ago. She almost forgets her other hand on her cock, all heavy and blood-hot and seeping. 

There's a clattering sound of falling armour and she looks up. Arthur has returned, and, god, what has she done, she's ruined Merlin's reputation, shamed him - except that look on her step-brother's face is not disgust or revolt. He's on the bed before she can draw another breath.

'Starting without me?' Arthur asks in a voice so rumbling-low it makes Morgana's cock twitch in her hand. 'That's not yours to play with,' he says teasingly, pulling her fingers out from her arse. 'But I appreciate you doing all the hard work.'

Arthur's fingers are wider, harder, and he uses three straight away. But oh, he hits the beautiful spot immediately, better than Morgana could at that wrist-wrenching angle, and he doesn't let up until she's coming, white wet spurts all over Merlin's lath-thin body. She wishes Arthur would touch her breasts, a phantom want, for Merlin has no such things, but when Arthur bends and bites gently at a flat nipple, she can't help moaning. 

'Can I fuck you?' Arthur groans, watching her spill the last of Merlin's seed. 'Let me, Merlin.'

'Yes,' she breathes, Merlin's voice rough and low in her throat. 'Fuck me. God, fuck me, please -'

She comes again on Arthur's cock, rolled over onto her belly like an animal, glorying in the rut of her cock in the sheets. She comes a third time when he forces his cock down her throat and spends in her that way. When the fire has burned down low, in the dark of the night, she comes once more in his hand, slow and gentle as he teases it out of her. 

In the morning, she wakes up in her own bed with a cunt and breasts once more, although she feels stiffer and sorer, in a satisfying way, than she remembers being before the switch. 

Merlin cannot meet her eyes without blushing for a week.

* * *

**16.**

**Pairing(s):** Merlin/Arthur, Merlin/ Others  
 **Warnings:** BDSM... but like, fluffy BDSM?

Merlin’s never had a customer quite like Arthur Pendragon before.

He’s been the top switch at Avalon Kink for over three years now so it’s not like he hasn’t seen his fair share of interesting clients. 

Like Gwaine, a chatty Irish bloke who enjoys being plugged, whipped, face fucked, then cuddled.

Or Morgana and Gwen, a friendly couple who take it in turn to fill Merlin’s every orifice with their impressively customised hot pink strap-ons.

Or Elyan, a gentle soul with a new and increasingly bizarre roleplay every week. 

(“Where do you get this stuff?” Merlin asks, after a session as the ringmaster of a haunted circus who takes it up the arse from the ghost of a juggler. 

“I always wanted to be an actor,” Elyan admits sheepishly.)

It’s not only about sex. Half of Merlin’s regulars just want to be flogged or scolded or dressed up – or they prefer to flog, scold, and dress up Merlin. The point is, they like to do one or the other. Not both.

Arthur likes both.

Merlin thinks he has him pegged (pun totally intended) when Arthur comes in that first day and asks to be chained to the wall, locked in a cock cage, and fucked without mercy. He gets into dom mode for the second session only to find Arthur’s decided Merlin should be the one chained to the wall this time. Which is all well and good, he’s getting off either way, but… 

It’s unexpected.

He nearly asks about it the third time, after Arthur drapes himself over Merlin’s lap to be paddled, then switches their positions and summarily shoves the handle of the paddle up Merlin’s arse. Merlin doesn’t tend to negotiate that much before a scene, he prefers it loose and free, but he’s beginning to think Arthur should email him a schedule beforehand.

Ten sessions later and Merlin’s still no closer to an answer. It doesn’t help that he seems to be thinking about Arthur outside of work as well. And dreaming about him. And waking up hard and aching. 

He does his best to put it out of his mind. Fantasising about a client is not technically against the rules, but it probably counts as bad BDSM etiquette. 

Plus, he’s sick of having to wash his sheets every morning.

***

Then one Friday he’s in the club bar after a particularly excellent session with Gwen and Morgana. They tied him to the bed, and Morgana sat on his face while Gwen pegged him with an eight inch vibrating cock. Then they put him on his hands and knees and he ate Gwen out while Morgana spanked him with a leather glove. It was the perfect end of week treat and he feels relaxed and satisfied.

He’s just ordered his second drink when Elena ropes him in (quite literally) to do a pony-play floorshow with her. 

He heads back to the bar after; only to find there’s a Bellini waiting for him, and a familiar man stood beside it.

“Nice demonstration,” Arthur says, eyes twinkling. “You make a very cute pony.”

“You can saddle me up in our next session if you like?” Merlin says flirtily, and then frowns. “Oh. Unless you want to be the pony, or…”

He trails off and Arthur gives him an inscrutable look.

“Do I confuse you?”

“A little,” Merlin confesses. “Most people who come to the club… they tend to want the same thing every time.”

“I do want the same thing,” Arthur says simply. “I want you.”

Merlin feels a funny sort of warmth spreading through his chest.

“The first time I came here it was just stress relief,” Arthur says honestly. “The second time I was curious about what you’d be like as a sub. And after that… I just wanted to see you. I didn’t really care what we did.” 

Merlin doesn’t know how he stays straight-faced when he’s begging a juggling ghost not to throw him in the lion cage, but blushes like a schoolboy the minute Arthur compliments him.

“So you don’t have a preference?” he asks shyly.

Arthur grins.

“I like it both ways. Like you.”

“Like me,” Merlin says, and suddenly he’s grinning too.

“I think we should cancel your sessions,” he announces, and Arthur looks crestfallen.

“Why?”

“I’m not allowed to date clients,” Merlin says.

“Oh,” Arthur says. “Ohhh.”

And then Merlin kisses the confusion right off his face. 

He thinks he might have a taste for the unexpected after all.

* * *

**17.**

**Pairing(s):** Merlin/Gwaine, Merlin/Gwaine/Lancelot  
 **Warnings:** None

Merlin grasped the neck of Gwaine's tunic and brought him in for a quick and desperate kiss. He pushed him back onto the bed, straddling his hips.

"I missed you. Negotiations are dull when you don't have your husband there to distract you," Merlin said as he untied the laces from Gwaine's tunic. "I trust our kingdom's in order? Anything happen while I was gone?" Merlin asked. He stripped the shirt off Gwaine completely, leaving his torso bare and quickly rid himself of his own tunic.

"Just business as usual, you have a lot of scroll-work to catch up on, but I organized them for you," Gwaine answered with a grin as he placed his hands on Merlin's hips. "I missed you more than you know, Merlin."

"I think I know exactly how much you missed me," Merlin answered as he caught sight of a purple bruise along Gwaine's collarbone. He reached out and traced fingers against the mark, a slight jolt of jealousy and possession setting in his stomach before the arousal of the image of Gwaine letting himself be marked filled him instead. "How is Lancelot?" Merlin questioned. He leaned down to suck the same spot and ground his hardness against the hard muscles of Gwaine's torso.

"Annoyed to be on guard duty tonight instead of welcoming you home," Gwaine answered. "I'm glad to have you to myself, tonight," he admitted as he brushed the fringe off of Merlin's forehead and placed a kiss there.

"Are you?" Merlin questioned pulling away from Gwaine's embrace.

"You have no idea," Gwaine answered.

Merlin suddenly found himself underneath Gwaine and could only moan into the filthy kiss Gwaine gave him as he roughly worked open the laces on Merlin's trousers and pushed them off. Merlin moaned again as Gwaine's mouth covered his length and Gwaine began to suck him. His clever fingers pressed insistently at Merlin's perineum and Merlin spread his thighs in invitation.

"I'm taking Lancelot with me on the next trip. No reason you should always get to keep him to yourself," Merlin teased. He cupped a hand against Gwaine's jaw and stroked his cheekbone. "Fuck," Merlin cursed as Gwaine slid a spit-slick finger into him.

"You're tight," Gwaine said as he worked the finger in and out and stroked Merlin's cock with his hand.

"I didn't have someone with me like you had Lance," Merlin reminded.

"We'll need oil," Gwaine replied and quickly stripped off his trousers before crawling up Merlin's body and leaning over him to reach the oil.

"Mmhmm," Merlin agreed as he watched Gwaine's cock and balls temptingly sway in front of him.

"Hey! This is supposed to be about you," Gwaine complained as Merlin licked Gwaine from base to tip.

"Sorry," Merlin said with a grin as Gwaine moved back down the bed. He bent his knees and spread his legs as Gwaine coated his fingers. Merlin groaned and closed his eyes as Gwaine slid two fingers inside of him and crooked them just enough to press against his prostate.

"Look at me, Merlin," Gwaine demanded and Merlin opened his eyes to see Gwaine slide his mouth down Merlin's cock as he fucked Merlin open with two fingers and Merlin was gone. He moaned loudly as released in Gwaine's mouth, his toes curled against the silk sheets as Gwaine finger-fucked him through his orgasm.

"You're still hard," Gwaine teased. He hadn't let Merlin get soft and was stroking Merlin's over-sensitized cock. He slid a third finger into Merlin without protest.

"Yes, Gwaine, I know," Merlin replied as he squirmed. Gwaine handling his cock had him aching for more while making him want to pull away. His strokes became more pleasurable as Gwaine continued and Merlin slowly started to push into them as his cock began to leak. "Gods, just... fuck me already," Merlin groaned after a few minutes.

"As you command, my king," Gwaine said as he slid into Merlin. He fucked Merlin quickly, no longer teasing just pushing them both over the edge as quickly as possible.

"Get off," Merlin complained after a few minutes and Gwaine rolled off of him. He grabbed something and wiped them both clean. They settled in for the night, both quickly drifting off.

Merlin awoke briefly just before sunrise to the sound of metal being set on the hard floor followed by the soft sound of fabric.

"Welcome home, sire," Lancelot whispered as he climbed into bed behind Merlin and placed a kiss on his shoulder. Merlin squeezed the hand Lancelot wrapped around his torso in answer, smiling as he fell back asleep.

* * *

**18.**

**Pairing(s):** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** None

Evening was always the best time of day. 

That was when Merlin would come for him, touch him, press down with his fingers, and then…

Arthur shivered with anticipation at the thought. Merlin would be home soon, he’d come in through the door and greet Arthur with his firm, possessive touch. Arthur gave a little shudder of excitement.

Arthur loved Merlin.

He couldn’t remember quite when he’d started loving Merlin. Actually, he couldn’t remember very much at all, other than the fact that he was Arthur, and that there was nothing better than the touch of Merlin’s fingers on his body. It was what Arthur lived for.

\------------------

Arthur didn’t like it when Gwaine visited. He sat too close to Merlin on the sofa, always touched him far too much. One terrible evening, Gwaine leaned in and kissed him.

For a brief, horrible moment, Arthur watched Merlin start to kiss Gwaine back. He was overcome with anger, but helpless to do anything. The lights flickered overhead.

But then Merlin pushed Gwaine away.

“No, I’m sorry, I can’t. He’s still out there somewhere.”

Gwaine sighed, sat back and ran his hand through his hair. “Mate, he’s been gone a year now. Maybe it’s time to move on.”

Merlin shook his head, and Arthur could see the sorrow in his face. “I know you all think I’m being a fool. But he hasn’t left me, I know he hasn’t. Something happened, and I will find him.”

Merlin often talked about the person he’d lost. Sometimes, when he was alone, he would sit on the sofa sobbing. Arthur hated that, it made him want to cry too. But Arthur couldn’t cry. 

Gwaine stood up and grabbed his jacket. Arthur couldn’t quite contain his excitement that the man was leaving and the lights flickered again.

“Think about it, Merlin,” Gwaine advised. “He was a real player before he met you. Maybe he doesn’t want to be found.”

“Gwaine!”

“Okay, okay, just saying.” Gwaine headed for the door. “Oh, and you need to get those lights looked at.”

And then Gwaine was gone. Which was good.

Arthur forgot about him again.

\--------

Arthur watched as Merlin lay back on the sofa, stroking himself. There were soft, low moans coming from his mouth. How Arthur longed to lie there with him. How he wished he could reach out and touch that pale skin, capture that full mouth, press his face into that raven hair and breathe in the scent of him. He wanted to be the one making Merlin cry out softly as he came, to feel the hot spill of come over his hands, to hold him through it so he wouldn’t be alone.

But Arthur couldn’t do that. He could only watch, and yearn. And then, gradually, forget again.

Afterwards Merlin walked towards him, reaching out with those fingers still sticky with his own come. Arthur shuddered with anticipation, knowing he was about to be touched like never before. 

He couldn’t help it, he wasn’t going to last…

“Damn,” Merlin said. “Gwaine was right about those lights.”

\--------

Arthur disliked Lancelot on sight. He was far too smooth and handsome, and didn’t look much like an electrician. Arthur was sure he really just intended wiring his plug into Merlin’s socket. 

Also he didn’t like the way Lancelot was peering right into Arthur’s face, and getting out a screwdriver and… OH! 

Arthur suddenly felt exposed, vulnerable. What had Lancelot done? What if Lancelot damaged him? What if Arthur could never watch Merlin jerking off ever again? 

“You’ve got something in here,” Lancelot commented, reaching for Arthur. “It’s breaking the connection.”

Merlin’s little face got close, peering in next to Lancelot’s. 

“What’s that?”

“I don’t know. There’s symbols all over it. Did you put it in there?”

Merlin shook his head. “I’d never touch electrics.”

Lancelot smiled, and Arthur hated him even more. “No problem, I’ll just take it out and… What the hell?”

Arthur was suddenly sprawled on the floor of Merlin’s lounge, stark naked.

“Arthur!” Merlin recovered from the shock first, dropping to his knees and hugging him like he’d never let go. “Thank God! What happened to you?”

Arthur’s memories were rapidly returning. Mordred at their door one evening, furious because Uther had fired him, his eyes glowing golden, cursing Arthur…

“I was a light switch,” Arthur explained, leaning close to finally capture Merlin’s mouth in the kiss he’d yearned for. Plenty of time for details later. “And you never stopped turning me on.”

* * *

**19.**

**Pairing(s):** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** None

Merlin should have known better. He really, really should have.

But as the ball smacked into the back of the net, he knew he had no one to blame but himself.

\---

It had all started, of course, with Arthur alternately wheedling and harassing him; that was always how Merlin found himself in these ridiculous situations.

”I’m not making a sex tape. The whole idea is just way too awkward and terrible. Not happening, on any planet. With my luck, my mum would end up seeing it and that thought is more terrifying than I ever want to think about. Ever.” Merlin shuddered.

Arthur went quiet for awhile, before saying speculatively, “What if I score a hat trick against Mercia next Friday?”

Merlin snorted in amusement. “A hat trick? Against Mercia? Yeah, right. We’ll be lucky to score a single goal against them with their lineup this season. If you put three in, I’ll snog you in front of the whole fucking stadium.”

Arthur smiled and nodded to himself in conviction. “It’s settled then. Hat trick. Mercia weeps tears of blood. Sex tape. Best birthday ever.” Merlin imagined that to Arthur, that really was that, and everything would work out exactly as he imagined.

Laughing more, Merlin grinned and said, “Yeah, yeah, right. Hat trick, sure.”

And with that, Merlin determined to put the whole ridiculous idea behind him.

\---

At 2-2, with five minutes left, Merlin had completely forgotten about the bet and switched the ball blindly into the box, trying not to completely lose his shite at the arsehole practically punching him in the gut where the ref couldn't see. He wondered if he could subtly cleat him in the face somehow.

That frustration was quickly forgotten as the crowd went absolutely mental. Whipping his head around, he watched the ball drop to the ground after swooshing into the net.

Merlin froze as Arthur whooped in triumph and Percy picked him up and nearly threw him in the air.

Merlin hoped to god no one noticed how hard he was fisting his fingers into his shorts as he felt his entire body flush, from the tips of his ears to the ends of his toes.

Seriously, _damn him_.

\---

Arthur leaned in until he could growl in Merlin’s ear, “And remember to keep looking at the camera. I want to see every single expression you make while I fuck you.”

With one last firm kiss Arthur sat up and crawled behind Merlin, in between his legs. Barely pausing, he yanked Merlin's shorts and pants down to right below his arse and gripped him firmly. 

"Fuck, can't wait. Your arse." And with that Merlin found himself spread open and trying not to scream from the perfect heat licking at him. Mouth dropped open and eyes wide, he could only grind helplessly into the bed and stare at the camera while Arthur's weight pinned most of his body down. Arthur took his time, licking carefully around the rim and flicking the tip across. 

Merlin felt like he was on fire, gasping helplessly under Arthur while trying to keep his head upright when all he wanted to do was bury himself in the sheets and never look up again. He must look so, _so_ — 

With a great keening wail, he collapsed onto the bed and screamed.

Whimpering, Merlin felt Arthur hum before switching to long, soothing strokes starting from his bollocks. Arthur nosed at him a bit and huffed. “Merlin, I thought I told you to keep your head up. As much as I love watching you squirm, I’m going to want to see your face. No, this won’t do at all.”

Before Merlin knew what was happening, Arthur’s hand was fisted in his hair and yanking his head back to face the camera while he buried his tongue back in Merlin’s arse.

Merlin was absolutely not responsible for the sounds he made at that. In some far away part of his mind, he was vaguely aware that he would be mortified later to see himself moaning and begging like some wanton thing, but that thought seemed very far away with the way his scalp tingled in that exact right way — and then Arthur began to suck along the rim and Merlin lost the ability to think at all.

* * *

**20.**

**Pairing(s):** Merlin/Arthur

Arthur doesn’t bottom. 

At least that’s what he tells Merlin when they start dating and the topic of sex comes up. Merlin feels disappointed for the moment because Arthur’s arse is ridiculous. 

It was the first thing to get Merlin’s attention, perfectly shaped and tempting in the most ungodly way; he’d spent three weeks staring at it in the uni fitness center before finally making the decision to chat Arthur up one afternoon in front of the weight rack.

That fleeting disappointment comes back though and slowly starts to morph into something else. They’re now three months into their relationship and Merlin finds himself increasingly uncomfortable whenever they have sex. Not because Arthur won’t bottom to him; Merlin is a very happy switch and Arthur inside of him is pretty fucking fantastic. No, it’s because it’s becoming frustratingly apparent that Arthur’s aversion to bottoming goes beyond having a cock in his arse. 

Far beyond.

Arthur doesn’t even want his arse _touched_. If Merlin is bent over sucking Arthur’s cock and his fingers graze the cleft of Arthur’s arse as he tries to keep his balance, Arthur will take Merlin’s hands and place them on his waist instead, a move always accompanied by a sharp intake of breath and tensing muscles. 

Or Arthur’s fucking him from behind, sliding into him slow and tender when Merlin is in the mood to be hurt; Merlin can’t reach back to pull Arthur into him because Arthur will just grab his hands and place them on the headboard or the back of the couch, robbing Merlin of the physical contact.

At first, it’s weird, but then Merlin notices that it’s _every time_. And when he tries to ask Arthur about it, Arthur just gets fidgety, laughing him off or changing the subject. But something is _wrong_ and it’s stressing Merlin out. 

\---

Merlin is heading home from the gym early one afternoon, worked up and ready for a good shag, when he finds his arousal waning at the thought of playing ‘palm patrol’ again in bed. He wants to be able to touch his boyfriend. Does Arthur realize how hard it is to fuck someone when you can barely touch them below the waist?

Merlin’s frustration reaches a peak as he steps into their apartment and transforms rapidly into confusion at the sounds of sex coming from his and Arthur’s bedroom. As he listens further, he realizes the noise is tinny as it filters down the hall; it must be porn Arthur is Arthur is watching. Toeing of his trainers at the door, Merlin strides quietly down the hall, hoping to jump Arthur mid-wank. When he gets to the open bedroom door, what he sees makes him freeze.

Arthur is kneeling in the center of the mattress, one hand fisted around his cock while he rocks back and forth on the fingers of his other hand. The sound is filthy and wet, and Merlin’s eyes flick to the bottle of lube lying forgotten on the pillow before darting back to Arthur. Arthur is turned slightly away from him, his eyes periodically fluttering closed as he attempts to focus on the screen of his laptop, sharp slapping noises echoing from the speakers; his lips are swollen and pink where he must have been biting them. He’s still wearing the faded blue tee he’d put on that morning, the shirt rucked up to reveal his abs and the deep V leading down to his cock. 

Merlin’s own cock is hard in his shorts and he palms it roughly, his arousal mounting as he takes in the sight of Arthur thrusting back onto his own fingers. One of the people in the video Arthur is watching cries out sharply and Arthur’s hip stutter as he swears and comes all over his fist before collapsing forward on the pillows. This Merlin an unobstructed view of Arthur’s arse, his hole puffy and red and still stuffed full of fingers, Arthur’s silver ring just barely visible at the rim.

Merlin can see Arthur’s back rising and falling as he draws in deep breaths before shifting his hips and continuing to rock onto his fingers. Arthur spread his legs wide and Merlin watches him force a fourth finger into his hole, whining and shuddering before adding his thumb. Merlin watches Arthur’s fist disappear, coming in his own shorts with a groan.

Merlin is going to need an explanation for this.

* * *

**21.**

**Pairing(s):** Fem!Merlin/Arthur

“Arthur!” Merlin yelled as Arthur manhandled her into an empty room and locked the door. “Stop being such a caveman!”

She’s always been Merlin to him. Merlin, with her oversized clothing and odd neckerchiefs. Always smiling, always so kind that Arthur couldn’t help but want to protect her in what he thought was a brotherly manner, apparently not.

She shouldn’t be looking like this, all sexed up with her too tight shirt and fluttery mini-skirt. Were her lips always this plump? They looked like they were made to suck cock. 

“Didn’t want them _touching_ you,” he snarled, pressing her against the wall, one hand holding her wrists above her head, the other on soft swell of her hip. “Did you see the way they were looking at you? _Like you were meat._ ”

Merlin huffed, squirming in his grip. “You’re not my boyfriend, Arthur. Stop acting like it.”

“I’m not your boyfriend,” he stated, the words poison in his mouth. 

There was a moment of silence where Arthur just stared. There was a tight feeling in his chest, the thrumming in his blood and something chanting at the back of his mind to own and possess the woman in front of him. It simply wasn’t done. That she wasn’t _his_. He leaned down to kiss her, chastely, but only for a moment because Merlin _moaned_ , all wanton and needy, parting her mouth to allow him access.

Arthur devoured her. Licked and sucked and nipped at her lovely mouth until breathing became too much and he had to break away. “Am I your boyfriend now?” he asked, grinding his clothed erection against her. 

“Prat.” She tried to crane her head up for another kiss, but was only able to nibble his jawline. 

It was odd. That she was shorter than him. He wasn’t sure why that was. 

“I’d take care of you,” he promised in between kisses as he trailed a hand to splay across her belly, stealing her warmth before slipping into the waistband of her skirt. “Catch you when you trip over your own feet. Clumsy thing that you are.” 

She was wet for him. Her panties damp as he stroked her through the fabric. “Please,” he asked, unsure why his voice was so raw. “Let me?” 

She nodded. Once biting her lip to stifle a moan as he tugged her panties aside to stroke her soft flesh. 

He played with her clit, rubbing and teasing until Merlin was panting, hips hitching as she tried to chase his fingers for more pleasure. Fingers warmed and slicked with her juices, Arthur 

“ _Arthur_ ,” she pleaded, trying to ride his fingers, squirming and writhing. “ _Please_. I need it. I need you.” 

It almost had him reeling, the way she said his name. They’ve never done this before, but there was a trace of familiarity within her tone that made him want to weep. 

Arthur didn’t think that he’s ever been able to deny her anything. Not since the beginning. He let go of her, but only for a moment. His fingers felt clumsy, reaching for the condom in his wallet but he slipped it on his cock, tight at the base to stave off his orgasm as he brought the tip to her cunt. 

She clung to him as he entered her, legs tight around his waist as she wailed out his name.

Arthur had to clench his eyes shut, seeking solace in the warmth of her breasts as he swallowed thickly. He was seeing things, memories that weren’t his and yet, they were. 

“Arthur, Arthur, Arthur,” she chanted, loud above the slick, wet sounds if their fucking. 

She orgasmed first, and it had him beaming with male pride at being able to do that. He chased his pleasure in her, finding release in her rippling, clenching heat. 

They were still standing against the wall, catching their breaths when Merlin began to sniffle.

Arthur played with her shirt, undoing her buttons to play with the frilly trim of her bra. “I didn’t get to play with these,” he pouted, trying to cheer her up.

“You haven’t changed,” she said, crying with a smile on her face. “At all.”

Arthur smiled, feeling his own eyes water up. “Neither have you.”

She laughed. “You clotpole. Haven’t you noticed? I’m a _girl._ ” 

He shrugged and kissed away her tears. “You’re still you, Merlin. You’re still you.”

* * *

**22.**

**Pairing(s):** Elyan/Merlin (unrequited Gwen/Merlin)  
 **Warnings:** none

"So you see," Guinevere explains, with a pained smile that says she's completely sincere, "even though I am married now myself, we do still care, very much. For you, personally, as well as for the relationship between our family and the Dragonlords. And that's why we wanted you to come."

"I understand," says Merlin, though his mind is reeling. "Thank you, Your Highness." The language is unusually formal for the two of them, and he feels the urge to bow, or kneel, or back away. Or else to step forward, thread his hands through her soft hair and pull her body to him while he kisses her, as he's dreamed of kissing her all along the journey to Camelot. He stands still and blinks, not knowing where to look.

"Obviously nothing's set in stone. You two can decide for yourselves. But we thought… if you did happen to hit it off, well, that would… we couldn't ask for a better ending than that."

Merlin makes himself smile and, finally, look at the beautiful errant prince. "No, I don't suppose we could."

*

Elyan has the noble bearing that Merlin's been working for years to adopt. His movements are precise and perfect. His body is made of sharp lines and angles that Merlin admires, even as he longs for the welcoming curve of Guinevere's back, the warm spread of her smile.

Merlin has been lonely since they named him Chief of the Dragonlords. He doesn't know how to talk to the other witches and warlocks who now bow down to him, and he doesn't get along with the non-magical royals who think themselves his equal or more. Guinevere always seemed to understand, and was always willing to fill the silences with cheerful talk, even when Merlin found his mind blank, his tongue tied.

"So, home at last!" Merlin says now. "You must have had some grand adventures."

"Not really," says Elyan, frowning briefly at the servant who carries away their plates.

"Is it good to be back?"

"It is what my father and sister wished."

*

At sunset on the roof of the castle Elyan pushes Merlin against a wall and tugs at his hair while he shoves their hips together. He is hard, and Merlin is aching.

"I can't be like her for you," he mutters against Merlin's jaw.

"No," says Merlin, "no, no one could."

Elyan works his hand between them and into Merlin's trousers, grabs his prick and starts to pull. Merlin grips Elyan's shoulders and feels the scrape of stone against his back. "Yeah," he grunts, as if his voice weren't powerful, with magic and monsters his to command. "Like that, yeah, please, yeah, yeah."

*

"I hope you weren't too disappointed," Elyan says as Merlin's preparing to leave.

Merlin shakes his head, not ready to put his hurt or his hope into words just yet, but says, "This can't be what you wanted either. Or you wouldn't have stayed away so long."

"Would you want to live shut up in a castle?"

Merlin doesn't answer.

*

The Dragonlords' seat of power is wherever their leader lives. Merlin used to think that would be Guinevere's castle one day, but after this last visit he understands he has no real reason to leave Ealdor.

Elyan prefers to come to him, if only for a few weeks out of each year.

"This is how it was before, when I was traveling. Far enough away from Camelot they don't see a prince, just a man."

"Out here you can be a Dragonlord's consort."

"Even better."

Aithusa, a dragon without speech, takes a liking to the man of few words and even deigns to carry him, along with Merlin, to a secluded spot on the mountainside. Elyan whoops with pleasure in flight and beams at Merlin when they're alone.

The family resemblance is strongest when he smiles, Merlin thinks. He leans in to kiss him and stops thinking of anyone else.

"Think of this as the roof of my castle," Merlin offers.

"I'll think of it as the edge of the world."

It's an honor to keep Elyan's secrets, even the ones he doesn't put into words. In the deafening distance no one else can hear his moans, or see the careful, practiced way he sinks to his knees, the way his eyes go half closed and his cheeks hollow around Merlin's cock. Merlin touches Elyan's face and feels the bone under smooth skin. He is dizzy and content. Grateful, at last, for hard angles.

* * *

**23.**

**Pairing(s):** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** I am warning for dubcon in an excess of caution.

The wedding ceremony had been solemn, and the bride had been exquisite. 

The wedding feast had been raucous, and Arthur had basked in the companionship of his knights even as their ribald teasing made him blush. 

The wedding night was a huge surprise. 

~ooo~ 

Lance and Gwaine and Percival had escorted him to the bridal chamber, drunkenly singing and offering lewd advice. Arthur briefly wondered where Leon was, but then he was being pushed through the door, his friends’ last jests ringing in his ears. 

He looked at the bed and his jaw dropped. 

He would concede that he was a bit high from all the wine served at the feast. But he definitely wasn’t drunk. 

And that definitely wasn’t Morgana in the bed. 

Arthur blinked to clear his vision and took in the candlelit scene before him. There was the bridal bed, all white lace and embroidered silk, with the coverlet strewn with rose petals. 

“Merlin?” Arthur exclaimed, dumbfounded. “Why the hell are you in my bed?”

“Technically, it’s Morgana’s bed,” Merlin replied. 

“I don’t care whose bed it is,” Arthur said, his voice rising. “I want to know why you are in it! Is this some sort of wedding night prank? I am going to kill Gwaine!” 

“Don’t blame Gwaine. Blame your father.” 

“What?” 

Merlin answered bitterly, “Your father. This was his idea. He left you a note.” 

Arthur picked up the piece of parchment lying on the table next to the bed and ripped off the Pendragon seal. 

He read the note aloud to Merlin. 

_Arthur- I suggested a marriage with Morgana because she will make you an excellent queen. The people love her, and she is a skilled diplomat. However, there are reasons why you cannot consummate the marriage. I didn’t want to ruin the wedding by telling you beforehand, but I will explain it to you tomorrow. In the meantime, I know where your real desires lie. Have fun tonight.”_

“Yuck,” Merlin said. “Uther advising you about your sex life is creepy.” 

“Wait, wait,” Arthur said, sitting on the bed next to Merlin. “What does this mean?” 

“I think he’s saying she’s your sister,” Merlin answered in a sulky tone. 

Arthur must have looked confused, because Merlin added, “Your biological sister.” 

“That explains a lot,” Arthur said slowly. “Did she know about this?” 

“I guess she did, since castle gossip says she’s sharing a bed with Leon.” 

“Oh,” Arthur said. 

He took a closer look at Merlin. He was fresh from the bath, with his skin pink and his hair damp. He was wearing a sensual perfume, and his eyes were lined with kohl. 

“Who did all this?” Arthur asked. 

“Gwen, and a bunch of other women,” Merlin pouted. “They kept _cooing_ at me.” 

“You do look quite pretty,” Arthur replied. 

Then he did something he had never allowed himself to do. He reached over and ran his index finger around Merlin’s mouth, tracing the shape of his lips. 

Merlin started to argue, but Arthur shut him up with a kiss. 

~ooo~ 

It was fun figuring out how to get the best sounds out of Merlin. 

Once Merlin relaxed into the kiss, Arthur spent many intense minutes exploring his mouth. He got a surprised “oh” out of Merlin when he explored all the crevices of his ears with his eager tongue. 

Merlin’s nipples pebbled up nicely when Arthur sucked them, and Arthur used the silky cream the women had conveniently left at the bedside to create a nice slip when he took Merlin’s penis in hand. 

The first time Merlin came, it was after a mere five strokes. Merlin was embarrassed, but Arthur shushed him, thinking smugly that no one could resist his signature wanking move, a slow pull with a twist at the end, combined with a swipe across the tip with his thumb. 

Arthur was generous, letting Merlin come a second time before he thought of his own orgasm. 

But when he leaned against the headboard with Merlin in his lap, cradling him face-first and kissing him while Merlin rocked up and down on his cock, he came like he never had before. 

Arthur thanked fate that Uther had engineered the switch. 

~ooo~ 

The next morning a lavish breakfast was brought to the room, and the maid curtsied and said, “With the Princess Morgana’s compliments.” 

* * *

**24.**

**Pairing(s):** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** dubcon (mistaken identity)

Gwen comes through the bathroom window after her watch, which is how Merlin knows it's bad. She only ever sneaks in when she's worried about a trail or when she's trying - unsuccessfully - to hide her injuries, and Merlin hasn't heard anything on their stolen police scanner that would suggest the former.

Sure enough, when he finds her, she's slowly bleeding out in their bath. She gives him a sheepish smile. He sighs.

"What happened?"

"They had Ar- Detective Pendragon. They were using him him as bait, or leverage, or something."

"He has got pretty obsessed with us." Merlin eyes her. "Judging by the state of you, you didn't just tell them he could rot in hell."

"It's not as bad as it looks," Gwen tells him, "I already took the bullet out and bandaged my arm."

"You were _shot_?"

"Only once! I'll be fine in the morning."

"Yeah, because you'll be in bed in the morning." Merlin perches on the edge of the bath, curling a hand around her shoulder to hold her still while he sews her up. Gwen doesn't say anything, because she's biting her lip through the pain, but her eyes speak for her. " _Yes_ , Gwen. You're not allowed to die on me, okay?"

Gwen exhales, sharp, then lets her head drop against Merlin's arm. "Okay."

*

Merlin's watch is a lot quieter than he was expecting. There's nothing exciting on the police radio, and when he scales the rooftops, he doesn't find much more than a familiar blonde head coming out of an alley.

Merlin grins. He drops down behind Arthur, enjoying a little too much the way it makes him jump.

"You," Arthur says, when he whirls around. "I saw you- you were shot."

Merlin does little jazz hands, says, "Superpowers."

He's still not used to how his voice sounds through the vocoder. It's actually pretty close to a normal human voice, but it doesn't sound anything like him, or even like Gwen.

"Right," Arthur says, instead of the retort Merlin was expecting. Arthur sounds... tired. Being kidnapped by violent criminals so they can get to the masked vigilante you've sworn to bring to justice probably does that to you. "Look, I'm only gonna say this once, but- you saved my life." Arthur exhales. "Thank you."

Merlin softens. "Just doing my job," he says, and Arthur makes an irritated noise, says, "It's _not_ your job," and Merlin laughs. That's more like it.

"You're right," he says, "it's yours. As is arresting me, which you haven't even tried to do yet."

"Free pass," Arthur says, "for the life-saving," and Merlin grins.

*

Merlin's not sure how it happens, exactly. One minute, he's fighting off more goons than he has fingers to count on and the next minute, he's coming to on a sofa that probably cost more than his and Gwen's whole flat, and Arthur is hovering above him.

Merlin's first thought is all panic, but his second thought is that they don't have expensive sofas in jail. Third: his mask is still covering his face.

(Fourth: Gwen is going to give him so much shit when he gets home.)

"Wha-" he says, blurry, and Arthur's pushing him back down before he really has a chance to get up.

"Are you trying to kill yourself? Because you're doing a stellar job, lately."

"Says you," Merlin mumbles, "I'm still not arrested."

"Free pass," Arthur says, soft, and Merlin doesn't think, just slides his hands up the arms that are still braced on his chest and pulls Arthur down.

It's a weird slide, their bodies together, not exactly smooth or comfortable, because Arthur's fully-clothed and Merlin's in his battered suit and can't really feel much except pain. It's the good kind, though, that draws little gasps out of him with every movement, every wound and bruise sparking hot white under his skin. Arthur is touching Merlin so gently, like he's scared of hurting him. Merlin's not sure he can make words for the way he wants Arthur to clutch him tight, dig his nails into Merlin's suit, rut into him until one of them comes, or Merlin passes out again.

It turns out not to matter; Arthur grazes the shallow gash on Merlin's stomach, and that coupled with the steady friction around Merlin's crotch sends him over the edge. Merlin exhales, ragged, and promptly passes out.

* * *

**25.**

**Pairing(s):** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** Minor character deaths

He was born in a cold room at the back of a building, while lightning split the skies and rain leaked all over the roof and drip drip dripped down the walls. 

Not that he noticed.

All he remembers is waking up, a bright surge of energy running through him, tickling and thrilling, and the world coming into light around him.

*

The world is square, contains the Table and the Four Chairs and the Stove, and sometimes, the People, who appear out of nowhere and then, poof, disappear again. He can’t decide if he believes they’re real, or if he’s only imagining them, but the littlest girl called him Merlin, because he is like magic, and well, Merlin certainly believes in flattery.

Most of all there is the Bulb, and the wire connecting them, and the raw power of their bond. 

The Bulb is an angry thing. It rants every time it’s turned on, calling Merlin all sorts of names for shutting it off, even though it wasn’t Merlin’s fault. 

But that is the way of the Bulb.

*

Or, one bulb, as it turns out. One morning, Merlin wakes up and Uther’s gone. In his stead, there’s Gaius. He wonders if it’s like with the People, and if Gaius is Uther’s child.

“Don’t be an idiot,” says Gaius, and enlightens him to the ways of the world.

Apparently, Merlin is not Gaius’ first. He has been to other rooms, and in Merlin’s imagination, the world expands. It turns out there’s three other rooms out there, maybe even more, all different. He learns about the Bed, and floral-patterned wall paper, and Plants. 

He’d love to travel someday, like Gaius.

Gaius is a lot more fun than Uther. They have chats till deep in the night, and Merlin is happy.

*

He’d hate the new bulb on principle, except it really is very annoying.

“Come on, Merlin, give me more energy!”

“It’s not _my_ fault you’re not the brightest bulb,” Merlin says, snottily, except, unfortunately, Arthur is. The brightest bulb, that is. He shines with a golden glow that is strangely mesmerising, makes the whole world look a little more magical, a little better, and he is _the absolute worst_.

“You look rather shabby, has no one ever polished you?” and “well, of course, no one would notice, they’re all busy looking at _me_ ” and “Your service is severely lacking” after someone flips Merlin in the middle of Arthur humming a song. 

“You would be nothing without me,” Merlin mutters and wakes Arthur obnoxiously early the next day. Arthur sputters weakly.

“Rise and shine!” Merlin hollers, then basks in Arthur’s glare.

Merlin smiles for the rest of the day and hums a song of his own.

*

Arthur is very quiet the next day.

“Don’t tell me you’ve burned out already.”

“… They almost replaced you yesterday,” Arthur mutters. “How many times must I tell you, don’t go towards the light.”

“Ha,” says Merlin, but he does feel a bit different. Or maybe it’s Arthur. A sharp spark of energy shivers down his spine and into Arthur’s, and Merlin thinks that maybe, Arthur shines even brighter than usual, his round bottom gleaming appealingly.

The energy between them tightens, and Arthur says, very quiet, “I really am nothing without you,” and Merlin knows it’s not true, but oh, it makes him feel like he’s glowing inside, too; he’s flushed with delicious electricity, lets it crash into Arthur. He looks a bit dazed and overbright; and Merlin does it again, and again, just because he can. 

Arthur is still annoying, and bossy, and loud, and _lovely_. The current spikes sharply throughout Merlin’s body, and he thinks he might have exploded, a series of tiny explosions in a row; Arthur goes whitehot, before going soft, so soft and Merlin just sits there, on the wall, not quite sure what just happened. This might be better than travelling.

*

He’s not ready for Arthur to go away.

*

Eventually, the People leave, and there’s nothing.

*

When he wakes up again, the world is a different place. It’s bigger, for one, and he learns about the Television, and the Playstation and Central Heating. He’s travelling, at last. It’s lonelier than he expected.

The People call him Antique and he wants to tell them, no, it’s Merlin. Stupid people.

*

And then one day, he hears, “Hey. Still the laziest light switch around, are you?”

And there he is, shiny and new, but undeniably _Arthur_.

Merlin trembles. He says “ _You_ ’re lazy,” instead of “You make my world a brighter place”, but Arthur understands anyway.

*

Together, they shine.

* * *

**26.**

**Pairing(s):** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** Soulbond/soulmate marks. 

Arthur used to trust destiny. 

With the mark of his soulmate inked into his skin, it was easy to feel like the universe was looking out for him. As if destiny pulled him towards the place he was supposed to be, even when he took long and winding detours. 

Merlin is a detour. 

Bright, exciting, beautiful. 

“I’m not your match,” Merlin had said under the fairylights at Morgana’s garden party, “but I like you.”

Merlin’s mark is an intricate, abstract pattern in the crook of his elbow. The first time Arthur fucked him, Merlin pressed his face into it, arm slung over his head. He was pliant under Arthur’s hands, fucked out and sated, and Arthur liked the feel of him, liked they way they fit. It was easy like this, being good together, even as they both knew they weren’t destined for each other.

Arthur doesn’t trust destiny anymore. 

He spreads his thighs wider, his legs hooked over Merlin’s thighs where he sits on his knees, dick deep in Arthur’s arse. Merlin drags him back into every thrust, grip firm and bruising. His arse is so full and he still wants more, feels like something is missing, that little thing he can’t put his finger on. He grinds down on Merlin’s dick, head thrown back against the mattress. 

Gripping his own cock, he jerks himself in time with Merlin stuffing him full. 

“God, yeah, Arthur,” Merlin says, hands rubbing soothing circles on his skin. “Keep doing that.”

Arthur looks at him, raises a mocking eyebrow like he always does when Merlin starts getting mouthy and toes the line towards cheesy porn dialogue. He gets distracted when a finger traces the rim of his hole and his leg jerks. 

Merlin laughs, delighted, and Arthur wants to fuck him so hard, fuck the mark belonging to someone else right off his body.

He grabs onto Merlin’s arms and uses his grip to grind himself on Merlin’s thick cock, his breath stuttering. Merlin’s mouth goes slack.

“Fuck, I want this,” Merlin says, and even through the frantic haze, it makes Arthur pause. 

Their eyes meet and they both know it’s not that simple, not when destiny has promised them away to someone else. Arthur’s anger bubbles to the surface and he groans, low and harsh, not knowing if it’s from the anger, the pleasure or both. 

“I don’t care about the mark, I want to be with you, I want–” Merlin moans, stilling inside Arthur for a moment before he sets up another bruising rhythm. 

“Me too, Merlin, fuck. The mark, I’ll get a tattoo over it. I’ll–”

Merlin laughs, hysterical, and comes.

\---

They yell each other’s name at the same time and Arthur stumbles over the kitchen chair in his haste to get to Merlin, only to collide with him in the doorway to the bathroom. He grabs him by the t-shirt and holds on, knuckles whitening.

“Is yours–?”

“Yes.” Merlin is breathless. 

At the crook of Merlin’s elbow is a small, intricate coin, identical to the one that has overwritten Arthur’s own mark. He presses two fingers against it, traces the outline, his hand shaking. 

It’s destiny’s turn to trust Arthur.

* * *

**27.**

**Pairing(s):** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** Knifeplay

Merlin tests the weight of the sleek black box in the palm of his hand. He hums then pauses, brings the box up to his ear and rattles it.

Arthur huffs. “Merlin, would you just open it?”

“It looks expensive.”

“You haven’t even seen it yet.”

“Yes, but – “

“ _Merlin._ ”

Merlin sighs in resignation and shifts into a cross-legged position. He runs his fingers over the slick material before carefully sliding the lid off.

“I –“ 

He breaks off and swallows. It’s an Italian stiletto; the handle black and gold, the metal smooth against Merlin’s fingers. He slides the automatic switch and the blade flips open – he drags his thumb over the edge; it’s razor sharp, and his cock twitches. 

“Do you like it?” Arthur asks, a nervous hitch to his voice.

“God, yes. It’s gorgeous,” he looks up at Arthur from beneath his lashes and bites his lip. “Does this…does this mean that you…?”

“Yeah…yes. I’d like to try – if you still want?”

Merlin nods. “I want.”

***

Half an hour later, Merlin's cock is straining and rock hard in his pants; the anticipation making focusing on anything else impossible.

Arthur presses another wet, open-mouthed kiss just beneath his jaw and Merlin tilts his head to the side to give him access. The switchblade is lying on the pillow, tantalizing; the gold of it glimmering where the overhead light reflects off of it. Merlin doesn’t want to _wait_. 

He fists his hands into the side of Arthur’s shirt and whimpers.

“Arthur, c’mon, please. Just. _Please_.”

Arthur places one last kiss against his cheek. “Shh, okay. All right,” he says, and sits up to straddle Merlin’s hips. He tugs his shirt over his head and Merlin rests his hands just above the waistband of Arthur’s pants. 

Merlin shuts his eyes and breathes out through his mouth when Arthur leans over to get the knife.

There’s a beat of silence, and then Arthur’s voice, soothing but stern: “Open your eyes. Want you to watch, yeah?”

Merlin does. He watches Arthur flip open the blade and place the side of across Merlin’s neck. He slides it down, to the neckline of his shirt and then even further, ripping the fabric.

Arthur follows with his mouth, leaving hot kisses and bites just after the cool touch of the blade against his skin.

When his shirt is gone, Arthur strips them both of their pants, and settles back on top of Merlin. 

The blade is back on his skin, right at the juncture of his neck and jaw. Arthur presses down gently, enough to feel the pressure, but not break any skin. Merlin clenches his jaw. 

Arthur ruts against Merlin as he leans down to kiss his mouth, nipping at Merlin’s bottom lip. 

It feels like his sense of touch has been kicked into overdrive; everywhere Arthur touches – every kiss and point of contact – makes him feel like he’s on fire. 

The blade hasn’t moved, and Merlin can’t tell if Arthur’s being a tease or if he’s still nervous. Merlin grasps Arthur’s wrist, gradually dragging it down until the blade is resting against his sternum.

“C’mon, it’s okay,” he mutters into Arthur’s mouth. 

Arthur sits back and slides the blade over Merlin’s skin, pressing his free hand over Merlin’s lower navel when his hips stutter. 

Arthur takes both of their cocks into his hand, jerking them off as he traces the blade against down to Merlin’s navel, and then up to circle his nipples.

“Arthur, bloody fuck, stop messing ar – _oh_ –“ Merlin hisses and arches when Arthur nicks the skin just beneath his collarbone.

“ _Shit_ ,” Arthur mutters. He abandons the knife in favor of smearing the spilled blood against Merlin’s skin. Arthur drags his thumb through it, and brings it up to Merlin’s lips, rubbing the wetness across his mouth. 

Merlin moans and sucks Arthur’s thumb into his mouth, mind going heady at the metallic scent and taste.

“You look so fucking good, God, Merlin,” Arthur groans, fisting their cocks and pushing his thumb in and out Merlin’s mouth. 

Merlin comes right after Arthur does, and watches with half-lidded eyes as Arthur runs his fingers through the mess, spreading their come and the blood across Merlin’s chest.

He looks just as dazed as Merlin feels, and Merlin knows that this wasn’t easy for him. He takes Arthur’s face between his hands and places a soft kiss on his lips. “Thank you.”

* * *


	3. Group C (Warnings)

**28.**

**Pairing(s):** Arthur/Merlin (femme!Arthur)  
**Warnings:** Threat of non-con (not realised)

Merlin peered over the enclosure wall. A single Norse warrior was still about, but being wounded and outnumbered, he was soon overcome. It was then, when his helmet was torn off, that they realised that _he_ was a _she_.

The men thronged around her, laughter rough like pumice on vellum. Merlin did not wait to see what would happen; he ran outside.

They had not yet forced themselves upon her, but someone had undone her plait, and her hair fell like sunshine, all the way to her hips.

"In God's name, stop!"

The warriors parted as Merlin approached.

Their leader turned towards him. "What do you want with an unnatural Norse bitch, brother?"

"To care for her wounds."

The man shrugged; he would not fight a monk. "As you please, brother. She'll stil hang tomorrow, with the others."

 

The infirmary was full, and Merlin was forced to take her to his cell. There was chaos, and no one seemed to mind.

 

"You are wounded." He touched his own arm and grimaced, then pointed at hers.

Her narrow eyes narrowed further. Bold, like someone born to privilege, she reached for the cross around his neck. She fingered it, then studied his tonsure. She was as tall as he was, with a presence that filled the room. Merlin shuddered.

She noticed, and grinned, showing crooked teeth.

She began to undress. She held his gaze while she undid her belt, then struggled with her mail and the layers underneath, until she was down to a cloth wrapped around her bosom.

She let him clean and dress her wound. Though he tried not to look, Merlin saw other scars on her, and muscles that spoke of daily training since childhood.

 

That night, he offered her his bed. He was going to sleep on the floor, but she moved closer to the wall and patted the space next to her. It was like being ordered by an empress, and Merlin obeyed. He lay down at her side.

It was chaste at first, but then she shifted. Her bosom pressed against his shoulder, and the curve of her belly against his hip. In an instant, all the heat in Merlin's body gathered in his loins. Dear God, he was as bad as the men who had wanted to spend their rage in her conquered body.

But he was wrong; she was not conquered at all.

She touched him. His cheek first, then his neck. His stomach, through the cloth of his habit.

And lower.

She whispered a question, and he understood the sentiment, if not the words. He nodded, tongue-tied, vows forgotten.

She rucked up his skirts. She touched his shin, his knee, the nearly hairless skin of his thigh.

And higher.

She kissed him; drank his mouth while her hand moved. And then she stopped. She plucked at his habit, and he nodded again, let her do with it – and him – as she pleased.

Once they were naked, she pulled him on top of her, to lie between her splayed thighs. She guided him inside, and showed him how to move; to be the waves to her shore.

He died in her arms, and she brought him back to life: pillowed his head on her breasts, petted his hair, and kissed him. He fell asleep there, curled up in her warmth.

 

When he woke up, she was leaving.

"Wait," he whispered, knowing he might never see her again. "Tell me your name!"

Somehow she understood.

"Arthur," she said, voice a little rough.

"I'm Merlin."

She smiled, and then she was gone, and Merlin was never the same.

 

A year went by. One summer morning, Merlin went to the shore. There had been no message, no signal; he simply knew. He waited, until at last a dragon ship appeared, small and swift as a serpent.

 

Anyone passing by would have seen a strange sight: a young monk, skirts trailing behind him in the water as he made his way to the ship, and a woman – a warrior queen in a scarlet tunic and golden plaits encircling her head like a crown – jumping overboard to join him.

They met in the middle, hesitated for a moment, and then embraced. The monk's arms stayed around the woman's neck as she lifted him, and carried him back to her ship. They kissed, while men cheered around them and gulls keened, high above.

 

Its mission complete, the dragon turned, headed again for the open sea and the north.

* * *

**29.**

**Pairing(s):** Gwen/Morgana  
**Warnings:** none!

Gwen returns from her Friday morning lecture to find her room in shambles and her roommate in a rather similar state. There's a pile of laundry and other random bits pushed off to the side of the room in front of the open window, both desks and one of the bureaus are in the center of the room, and the other bureau is, upon closer inspection, shoved up next to one of the beds.

In the midst of this all is Morgana. She's standing there wearing only a purple camisole and the ridiculous lime green running shorts she stole off Merlin, a cup of coffee in one hand and a drawing in the other. Her hair's pulled into a messy bun on top of her head; she has her glasses on, too, giving her that serious yet disheveled yet also really hot sort of look.

"It's not a drawing," she replies when Gwen asks about the paper. "It's a map."

"Oh. Of what?" Gwen squints at the drawing. Granted, at this point she's still pre-coffee and post-organic chem, but the paper really doesn't look like a map. "I only see a few squares and... a blob?"

"Yes." Morgana nods and offers Gwen the cup of coffee, then points to the pile of clothes and bags and pillows. "That's the blob, obviously."

"Riiiiight." Gwen gives the paper another look and gives it back to Morgana in exchange for the coffee. "And why are you switching up all the furniture?"

Morgana's shoulders droop for a moment, and she crumples the paper and pitches it onto the nearest desk. She looks despondent, but cheers up a bit when Gwen tugs her over to sit down on one of the beds.

"Well. It was part of a bigger plan," Morgana explains after they've finished the coffee. "I probably ought to have put it into motion when you'd be away from the room longer." She retrieves the map and smoothes the wrinkles out with both hands. "See, once everything else is moved, we can push the two beds together and it'll be like having one huge bed."

"Oh," Gwen says, and then, " _oh_ ," when she realizes what Morgana has in mind. "So, we are... actually, not just... You know. Girlfriends. One word. Not girl-space-friends."

"I thought I'd kissed you enough to make that clear. I suppose not." Morgana tosses the map away once again, this time to the floor, as she leans in to kiss Gwen. First on the cheek, then on the lips, then slipping her tongue in slowly to make Gwen sigh.

And Gwen always seems to sigh the first time Morgana kisses her like that in the morning. It's just a small sound, pleased and quiet, because everything feels so right and good when she and Morgana kiss like that.

Which means that, yes, Gwen ought to be have been able to figure out the bed-thing on her own. But it's only half past nine in the morning, and she and Morgana have only been together for about two weeks, so...

... so, everything is new and different: reaching up to take off Morgana's glasses for her and to kiss her full on the lips; pushing Morgana down onto her own unmade bed, sliding off her shorts and kissing the soft, warm space between her thighs; tugging off her own tee shirt and jeans, letting Morgana slide off her bra and cup her breasts, leaving on her underpants because Morgana especially likes the yellow stripey ones.

The best and newest thing is the sound that Morgana makes when Gwen licks inside her, when she presses in closer and closer, and doesn't stop until Morgana is trembling.

Later, when they're both a mess of sweat-slick tangled limbs and mumbled, kissing murmurs, Gwen promises Morgana she'll help her move the furniture.

Morgana gives her a series of little pleased kisses over her eyelids and nose, and curls in close.

* * *

**30.**

**Pairing(s):** Merlin/ Arthur  
**Warnings:** None

Merlin absolutely did not want to be here.

It was fun the first time Gwen dragged him to the local LGBT speed dating event but now, after the third week in a row of meeting total randoms and knobheads, the only thing keeping him in his chair was the promise of alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol.

Over on the far side of the room, Merlin could see Gwen chatting with the terrifyingly beautiful event organiser. He wanted to shout at them to just kiss already so he could be done with the stupid two minute meet and greets that were more about snap second judgements and hookups than a searching for meaningful long term connections.

Merlin could feel his cynicism bubbling over. Perhaps Gwen was right; he really did need to get laid.

The starting bell sounded as everyone found a seat and Merlin found himself saddled with a youngster who couldn’t have been much more than eighteen.

His name was Daegal and he was so shy he didn’t speak.

When the bell rang out to switch partners Merlin almost sighed in relief.

His next two partners weren’t much better. Merlin was sure Cedric was a thief he’d seen on the news and Julius gave off the vibe of a slimeball. He’d made sure to keep a hand over his drink just in case.

By the time his fifth partner had switched in Merlin didn’t even bother to look up from his drinks menu.

“Hi, I’m Merlin. Virgo. 29. I like long walks on the beach, dogs and margaritas.” He said rotely while contemplating the wisdom of doing some shots. The night might go a bit faster if he was drunk.

The man across from him snorted and Merlin looked up to see blonde hair, blue eyes and a strong jawline.

Ohh this one was a bit fit.

“Yes and my name’s Arthur and I’m a professional race car driver,” the bonde mocked, “but that’s only because I could never follow my dream of becoming an astronaut.”

Fit but an arse.

Merlin glared. OK so maybe he hadn’t been taking this very seriously but that did not give a total stranger the right to take the piss out of him.

They were not mates.

He was no Archbishop of Banterbury.

“I suppose you wanted to be an astronaut because you were just too good for us peons down here on earth.”

Arthur grinned at the accusation.

“I don’t know why you’re insulting me; I could take you apart with one blow. Plus it’s not like anything you just said was the truth!” he crowed.

Merlin frowned. Arthur’s eyes sparkled in challenge and his bottom lip looked plump and inviting. No man should look so attractive while being such an absolute knob.

“Well, my name is Merlin and I am 29,” he admitted as the two minute bell rang.

Arthur remained sitting, eventually forcing the next man waiting to give up in a huff and move on further down the queue.

“And?” he prompted. “Do you actually like long walks on the beach?”

“I don’t often go to the beach; I don’t tan, I burn.” Merlin explained exasperated. “I like dogs but they’re not my favourite. I had a bad experience with a doberman once. I don’t know if I’m a virgo, and to be honest I could never really be arsed enough to find out. And while margaritas aren’t my favourite I think I could drink about five of them right now because I really really need alcohol to deal with you.”

Arthur stared at him in surprise as if he wasn’t expecting Merlin to rise to his challenge.

“Hi Merlin, I’m Arthur and I’ve been to more of these then I’d care to admit because my sister is the organiser and _requires_ my presence,” he said longsufferingly while gesturing to the gorgeous lady Gwen was crushing on. She was currently glaring at a pretty blonde who had taken hold of Gwen’s hand.

Merlin made mental note to update Gwen later.

“Also I think you’re beautiful and I’d really like to take you home with me.”

Merlin inhaled sharply as Arthur reached across the table to grip his hand, the lust between them palpable as Arthur stroked his wrist sending tingles of pleasure down his spine.

Merlin warred with himself internally.

“OK, but if we’re doing this I’m going to need a lot more alcohol,” Merlin conceded, “Also just an fyi, I don’t need one blow to take you apart. I can do it with much less than that.”

Arthur choked at Merlin's dirty tone and Merlin smiled in victory.

What a cabbage head.

* * *

**31.**

**Pairing(s):** Merlin/Arthur (one-sided), Merlin/Gwaine  
**Warnings:** everyone might be underage

Merlin’s heart broke the moment he saw them hugging on the deck.

The night was chilly, stars bright and cold, scattered across the sky like a bag of flour spilled above the world, and Merlin had thought that Arthur and Gwen might need a blanket. Maybe it was silly, but he felt responsible for them—he was the host here in Ealdor, where they were all staying at Merlin’s mum’s summer cabin.

Merlin stood, clutching the blanket in his hands, his heart shattered in millions of pieces just like those stars above. For there was no mistaking the way Gwen nuzzled Arthur’s shoulder, or the way Arthur was pulling her close.

“She’s incredible,” Arthur had said when they’d planned the holiday. Merlin had nodded because yes, Gwen was all kinds of awesome, and if inviting her meant that Arthur would come too, Merlin was all for it. Then Gwaine had decided to tag along for no particular reason, but it was so much better like this: four friends having fun on summer break, no third wheel.

And now everything was fucked.

He was proud that his voice and hands didn’t shake when he handed them the blanket. The grateful look Arthur shot him would have once made Merlin weak in the knees. He turned around and walked back inside the cabin as fast as he could, almost doubling over from spikes of pain. He willed his tears away, wiping at them angrily with the back of his hand when they spilled down his cheeks.

“What, have our lovebirds flown away?” Gwaine asked, looking up from his phone.

“I’m off to sleep,” Merlin mumbled, avoiding Gwaine’s gaze. “Knackered.” He stripped to his boxer briefs and curled up on the bed, not bothering to cover himself with the blankets. The image of Gwen’s head on Arthur’s shoulder burned white hot in his memory, and he knew any attempt at sleep would be futile.

Six fucking years. That was how long he’d been in love with Arthur. He’d thought…

But nothing mattered now.

“Merlin?” The mattress dipped when Gwaine crawled next to him.

“I’m so stupid.” Merlin sniffed, swiping at an errant tear.

Shame, regret, and self-contempt mixed together in a roiling swirl, and he was so overwhelmed he didn’t feel the hug at first. He snuggled closer instinctively, seeking comfort in the warmth of Gwaine’s firm body.

“You’re not stupid,” Gwaine said softly, stroking Merlin’s hair. He was so close his breath tickled Merlin’s face.

“Oh, I am,” Merlin insisted.

“If you’re a fool, then what does that make me?” Gwaine asked. And when Merlin looked up with his eyelashes still sticky with tears, he was stunned at how warm Gwaine’s dark eyes were, at how close Gwaine’s lips were. He took a quick breath, anxious not to make a fool of himself twice in one evening. But Gwaine didn’t let him dwell on it.

The first touch was fleeting, warm and soft, just a press of Gwaine’s lips to Merlin’s. The next kiss was deeper, though, and Merlin gasped as he opened for Gwaine’s tongue. And then it felt as if a fire had been lit inside Merlin, and he grabbed at Gwaine’s arms, clutching him tight.

“Fuck, Merlin,” Gwaine gasped. “Don’t let go.”

So Merlin clung to him as they kissed and kissed, exploring each other’s mouths with their tongues while Gwaine humped Merlin, slowly at first, then frantically pressing his hard cock to Merlin’s erection through all the fabric. And when Merlin was sure he’d come any second, Gwaine pushed him back and scooted down, tugging on Merlin’s pants until Merlin’s cock sprang free.

God, Merlin had never been this hard in his life.

Gwaine’s lips hovered inches from Merlin’s aching prick. He licked and swallowed around the head and Merlin was done. Without any warning he was coming hard, spurting seed into Gwaine’s hot mouth.

He was still gasping for air when Gwaine moved back up to kiss him again, tasting of Merlin’s seed.

“I want…” Merlin said, making a move to reciprocate, stunned that he yearned for it so much, more than he could ever have imagined.

“Next time.” Gwaine smiled, and Merlin noticeda dark wet spot on Gwaine’s boxers.

They looked at each other and laughed, and then kissed some more.

“God, I’ve been such an idiot,” Merlin whispered.

Gwaine hummed in agreement and chuckled when Merlin kicked him in the shin.

They crawled under the blankets together, but Merlin didn’t feel cold any longer.

* * *

**32.**

**Pairing(s):** Merlin/Arthur  
**Warnings:** Look I'm just.. really sorry.

There was an odd switch in Arthur’s living room. It was in the shape of a dragon and the switch was located on the general area of its crotch, so when the lights were flicked on, it looked like the dragon with a penis had an erection. Elena thought it made some sort of profound statement. Gwaine always cackled when he saw it and made some lewd comment that made everyone groan. Gwen usually turned a little pink but refused to acknowledge the oddness of that switch, and Morgana, whenever she flicked it on, did it with a smirk and a glance around the room. Merlin found the switch almost as hilarious as Gwaine and would giggle along with him.

Arthur, unlike Merlin, was mostly unimpressed. And profoundly uncomfortable.

He didn’t know where it came from. It was just… there, when he’d bought the flat, and he’d assumed it was Morgana’s work.

“Turn him on, Merlin,” Gwaine would say with a wink that would always make Arthur grit his teeth in annoyance. And Merlin would just kiss Arthur on his way to turn on the dragon.

“You did what?” Arthur asked, scowling at Merlin. Merlin just shrugged a bit sheepishly.

“It was an accident. I—“ Merlin tried to say, but he was cut off by a deep, rumbling sound. Arthur nearly jumped. Nearly.

“This is quite handy, young warlock” the voice purred, and Arthur looked around for the source of it.

“Merlin..?” Arthur asked warily, turning his eyes back to Merlin, because the voice seemed to be coming from the switch. “Is the penis dragon talking?”

The lights flicked on and off, and he heard a deep, rumbling laugh. It continued on for a long time as Arthur just stared and Merlin kept looking more and more uncomfortable.

“I uh—I was just cleaning the house with magic, and he started talking. I’m sorry.”

The lights flicked off and on a few more times. Arthur debated just grabbing the switch and making it stop moving, but discarded the idea as gross. It felt too much like touching a dragon’s penis. And wow, there was a thought Arthur hadn’t thought he’d ever have.

“How do we fix this?” Arthur asked after a long time of staring between the smirking dragon, and an increasingly uncomfortable Merlin. He fixed Merlin with a glare.

“I don’t think we can, Arthur,” Merlin said, biting his lip and looking up at Arthur through his eyelashes the way he did only when he was trying to distract Arthur from something he’d messed up. Unfortunately, it worked, and Arthur felt his glare melt away into something softer.

The dragon laughed again. Arthur wanted to smash it with a hammer.

“There is no fixing this,” it said, in that annoying tone. “You have awakened me. I am here until I decide to slumber again.”

And so it was, that the odd switch in Arthur’s living room turned even odder, something Arthur hadn’t thought could happen.

* * *

**33.**

**Pairing(s):** Merlin/Arthur  
**Warnings:** none

When Arthur had once thought to ask why he was different, they had told him he was human. That he had been switched with a changeling shortly after birth and stolen away to this land of myth and magic.

When Arthur asked if that was why he was so often stared at, his handler had scoffed and told him no. They stared because Arthur was the son of the human king who had thought it wise to banish magic from his land.

“But we showed him, lad. We definitely showed him. The changeling will surely be driving him slowly mad by now.”

So he could have been a prince. Arthur liked that idea – it sure beat being a slave.

He had been sold seven times now, and always for such high prices. Partly because the goblins always drove up the bidding due to their attraction to the golden shine of his hair. And partly because everyone wanted the boasting rights of owning the rightful heir of King Uther.

No one ever kept him though. They all said he was too human.

His latest owner was a warlock with bright blue eyes and an unruly mop of dark hair. He appeared to be close to Arthur’s age, which often left Arthur wondering if he did that to put Arthur at ease or if he truly was so young.

He never asked. Merlin had bought him for sexual release and Arthur figured he was probably better off not knowing the truth.

“Do you have an agenda against my father, too?”

Merlin looked surprised by the question.

“No. Camelot is a small land compared to the rest of the world. Besides, he has already paid his price. He’s insane now and Morgana rules his kingdom.”

“Then what do you get out of this? Do you plan on saving my seed to use for potions?”

Merlin laughed at that and uncrossed his legs.

“Or maybe I just find your human looks pleasing and your inquisitive nature enduring.”

Words left Arthur then, as they often did when he saw Merlin at full hardness.

He still had yet to be properly taken, but that was only because Merlin had been allowing Arthur to set the pace. And so far, all Arthur had wanted to do was touch and worship until he drove himself into a rutting frenzy.

Even as he crawled forward and placed himself between Merlin’s legs, he wondered if he had been bewitched to find such pleasure in this. Seeing the bulge strain against Merlin’s trousers, watching it twitch when he ran his fingers over it; it gave him a heady illusion of power that he never had before.

This time, however, when he wrapped his fist around the cloth-covered erection, he felt a pressure close around his own member. With a glance down to confirm nothing was there, he quickly figured out the sensation was Merlin’s doing, despite the man’s half-lidded eyes and parted lips.

Leaning in, Arthur mouthed Merlin’s shaft and felt heat seep against his own that sent shivers up his spine. He tongued at the spongy head and let out a groan as he felt something prod just to the left of his slit.

“—What…?”

“Harder,” was all Merlin ordered, slouching further in his chair.

Arthur obeyed, squeezing him with a grip strengthened by years of hard labor and letting out a cry as his own hips thrust forward into the tight channel that wasn’t actually there.

He soon lost himself in the pleasure, hips pushing forward into the ghostly touches as he jerked, kneaded, and mouthed at Merlin, desperate for release, but unable to fully achieve it.

“This is what you do to me,” Merlin explained through labored breaths. “This is why I want you.”

Arthur moaned in response.

“I’m going to _come_ ,” the word came out strained and it took Merlin a moment to continue, “and then you’ll finally understand.”

Arthur’s fingers scrambled to free Merlin from his pants, desperate to intimately witness his penis swell and ejaculate. His tongue immediately sought the taste of the precum that shone wetly on the head and his eyes rolled back as he felt Merlin swell in his hand before ecstasy washed over him.

It was like nothing Arthur had ever experienced. He could feel Merlin’s pleasure override his own and could do nothing but hold on as both orgasms thoroughly wrecked him. Even after Merlin was done, Arthur continued to pulse almost violently in his trousers, the wet spot against the cloth continuing to grow larger and larger.

Almost distantly, he was aware of Merlin petting his hair as he sobbed into his lap.

“Shh. Shh. Do you understand now?”

Shuddering as he slowly floated back down, Arthur nodded. Despite their positions, he was the one in control.

Because what he might come to feel for Merlin would never compare to what Merlin already felt for him.

* * *

**34.**

**Pairing(s):** Merlin/Arthur  
**Warnings:** Mental illness (anxiety, obsessive compulsive disorder, problems with self-worth, kind-of suicidal thoughts), possible wrong use of semicolon.

“You need to stop, Merlin.”

The voice doesn’t sound angry, just... tired. It’s coming from the bed, where Arthur’s lying on his back against the pillows, watching him. What he says isn’t news -- of course Merlin knows it’s ridiculous to switch the light on and off twelve times before going to bed. He’s not an idiot. Normal people don’t do that every night. He knows that.

Eleven.

“I know.”

Twelve.

They both know.

*

It’s difficult when the thoughts set in. What if something happens and he hasn’t performed the ritual to prevent it? He knows he’d feel incredibly guilty, being the reason for someone else hurting... He wouldn’t be able to deal with it. What if something happens to Arthur? Or Gwen, Morgana, his mum? So much can go wrong in a day: car accidents, terrorist attacks, random crazy people, getting mugged, falling into the road, falling into the _river_ , getting infected with something that’ll kill you...

Closing his eyes and breathing through his nose, Merlin leans his forehead against the cool wall. He’s holding his finger above the light switch, but isn’t flicking the lights off yet. It’s the twelfth one and it won’t feel right, he knows it. He will need to start over. That makes him feel even worse, because he shouldn’t do this at all. It’s ridiculous, ridiculous, _ridic--_

“Help me,” he says, voice so soft it’s barely audible.

But Arthur always hears Merlin. Always.

*

Every time Merlin gets fucked from behind, he buries his face in the pillows and lets the tears come. Arthur soothingly runs his hands over his ribs and back, murmuring sweet nothings, trying to calm him down. He doesn’t understand it’s tears of relief -- that being allowed to let go is the only time Merlin actually can let himself be happy. The only time worry isn’t devouring him from the inside out.

Unfortunately, it never lasts for long.

It lasts through Arthur’s cock hitting that hot spot inside him; through Arthur holding him down roughly; through them both coming; through Arthur kissing him gently afterwards... but later, in the bathroom, when Merlin looks at the man with dark shadows under his eyes who’s staring back at him from the mirror, the anxiety hits him twice as hard.

He turns away so he doesn’t have to see more of what he’s become, closes the door and flicks the light switch as he starts counting.

One, two...

*

Four, five.

There are days he wishes he’d never been born.

Six, seven.

*

Every time he manages to turn off the lights -- which always happens sooner or later -- Arthur kisses him, wraps his arms around him, and holds him close as he slowly falls into sleep. It makes Merlin feel safe.

Still, the feeling of failure never falls asleep like Arthur does.

*

“Merlin, we’re going to the Fringe Festival this weekend! Leon’s borrowing us his flat, and I’ve managed to book us cheap train tickets to Edinburgh and everything!”

For normal people, surprise weekend trips are something nice. Arthur’s doing something nice for him. Merlin has no right feeling himself go tense and awkward, he should feel grateful. He grips the table behind him for support.

“Sounds nice,” he says, and manages a smile.

*

Nine, ten... no. _Fuck!_ So close.

One, two, three... no.

One... no.

One...

“Merlin.”

Arthur is right behind him, body radiating warmth. His hand closes over Merlin’s, forcing him to stop.

“Merlin, _please_.”

“I...” Merlin takes a deep breath, tries to keep his voice from shaking. “I--I can’t stop.”

It’s difficult, saying those words, but’s the closest he can get to explaining how much he worries. He can’t explain exactly how worthless he feels, or how he can’t deal with things everyone else thinks are normal, or how he might accidentally kill all of them if he just makes a simple mistake and forgets. How repeating pointless rituals keeps him just out of reach of the crippling guilt and fear.

Arthur doesn’t understand, but he tries to. Leaning in to place a gentle kiss on Merlin’s cheek, he moves his hand off Merlin’s before sighing and returning to bed.

“I love you,” he says.

Merlin swallows.

One, two, three.

“I love you, too.”

Four, five, six.

* * *

**35.**

**Pairings:** Morgana/Gwen  
**Warnings:** None

Gwen was a simple fairy who enjoyed the little things in life. These included; flying through the air right after a rainstorm, snoozing on flowers, and feeling the fur of a tarantula as she hitched a ride on his back.

The little things she enjoyed also included a bit of physical pleasure. She had cum by her own hand more times than she had fingers and toes but there was something missing.

One day, as she was explaining her lackluster self-sex life to her friend Morgana, she had an idea.

The humans were great at physical pleasure! Everything she had seen and read suggested that they knew way more than the fairies did about it. She decided that night to visit a human's house to observe. She pleaded with Morgana to go with her.

Morgana eventually gave in, she wasn't as trusting of the humans as Gwen, and they set the time to leave.

At the human's house they watched as the humans climbed into bed and flicked off the light before entering the house.

~~~

"There must be something here," Gwen sighed, exasperated. Morgana shrugged and flitted around the room.  
They had been searching the gigantic human books for hours to no avail. Morgana got bored after the first hour and had been entertaining herself by looking around the humans' house.

"Gwen! What about this?!" Gwen flew over to where Morgana was hovering to take a look at what she was referring to.

It was white and big. It had two giant screws keeping it to the wall and a knob was protruding out of it, pointing downwards.

"What is it?" Gwen looked, perplexed, at Morgana.

"I believe it's what the humans call a light switch, though I don't see any light coming from it," Morgana paused and smirked, turning to Gwen.

"Do you think want to try it?"

Gwen considered it and then smiled slightly.

"Are you sure that's what it's for?"

Morgana smiled and flicked the switch upwards for a better angle. The light in the reading room that they were in flicked on and Morgana laughed.

"That's why it's called a light switch."

Gwen giggled, feeling extremely naughty. She lowered her pants and spread her legs on top of the knob. The smooth, hard plastic slid into her easily. She groaned, throwing her head back. It felt so full and good inside of her. Morgana felt her own panties become wet and reached down into them to touch herself.

Gwen moaned, the fairies had nothing like this. She reached down and used two fingers to circle her clit.

Morgana had never watched anyone masturbate before and was surprised at how much watching Gwen bounce up-and-down on the light switch effected her.

Between the fullness and the pressure on her clit, Gwen felt herself coming surprisingly quickly. She rode out her orgasm and heaved out loud breaths. She trembled with pleasure.

"F-fuck," Morgana moaned out as let herself climax.

"That was amazing. Humans are amazing, oh my gosh," Gwen still could not catch her breath.

"I don't think humans are the only ones who are amazing here," Morgana said softly. Gwen caught Morgana's eye and blushed. Morgana flew over to her and planted a filthy kiss on her lips.

"It's my turn next time," she said when they parted. Gwen laughed.

* * *

**36.**

**Pairing(s):** Merlin/Arthur, Gwen/Morgana, temporary Gwen/Arthur, Merlin/Morgana  
**Warnings:** potentially underage (they're in secondary school)

Merlin knew Gwen felt bad about dating the straight bloke Merlin had been crushing on since their 7th year, and he knew Gwen had become great friends with that bloke’s sister, but he still could not have felt more surprised when the sister in question, Morgana Pendragon, cornered him near the library and asked him out to the cinema.

“Um,” he said, because if his rainbow pin wasn’t enough, he was fairly certain his reputation around the school should have clued her into the fact that he wasn’t exactly interested in what she had to offer.

Morgana rolled her eyes. “Obviously I know you like cock—I’m counting on it, even—but my _parents_ don’t know you like cock, and that makes you perfect,” she said with a wicked little grin. “So, meet me at the cinema at 8, alright? Wait, no—we’re going to dinner first. Meet me at the pub on 5th at 6:30, and we’ll go to the cinema afterward, good? Wonderful. Cheerio!”

And she was gone, leaving a very confused Merlin in her wake.

—

Merlin went to the pub, because he wasn’t about to stand up a friend of Gwen’s, even if he had no fucking idea what was going on. When he got there, Morgana was already sitting at a table—along with Gwen and Mr. Straight Bloke, Arthur Pendragon. Apparently the universe just loved fucking with Merlin.

“Hi,” Merlin said, because they’d spotted him now, and fleeing the scene was no longer an option. “I didn’t know that this was going to be a double date.”

“Well, now you do!” Gwen said cheerily, and the dinner might have gone fine, if Arthur hadn’t been an absolute nightmare.

Arthur kept _doing_ things—licking his lips, stealing Merlin’s chips, giving Merlin this _look_ like he wanted to eat him. Gwen, however, didn’t seem to notice—she just chattered away with Morgana. It was driving Merlin up the wall.

—

The drive to the cinema was fine, but by the time the film was halfway over, Arthur had already slung his arm over Merlin’s should, whispered in his ear _twice_ , and rubbed his hand over Merlin’s knee. The universe really was intent on fucking with Merlin. At least the theater was dark enough to hide how turned on Merlin was.

—

“Oh, don’t be daft, Merlin. We’ll drive you home,” Morgana had said. Twenty minutes later, standing inside the Pendragon’s house, Merlin got the feeling that he had grossly misunderstood what she’d meant by “home”.

“You must be Merlin,” said Uther Pendragon, giving Merlin a very firm and frankly terrifying handshake. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Oh yes, Morgana has told us so much about you!” said Ygraine. “You’re welcome here any time, of course.”

“Would they be welcome right now?” asked Morgana before Merlin could sputter any confused gibberish at her parents. “It’s quite late, and I’d hate to send Gwen and Merlin home when we have plenty of space here. Might they spend the night?”

“Oh, of course,” said her mother, “Girls, you can share Morgana’s room, and Arthur, would you mind—”

“Of course, Mum,” Arthur said. “Merlin can share with me.”

Merlin wondered if this was what it felt like to have the universe’s dick personally fuck him up the ass.

They hadn’t been in Arthur’s room for more than a minute before Arthur started shucking off his shirt, baring his pale, toned chest for Merlin’s ogling eyes.

“Um,” said Merlin, “I can leave while you—”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Merlin,” Arthur said, grinning. Then he gestured over to the wall where a stream of hushed giggles could be heard coming from Morgana’s room. “Do you really think they’re having pillow fights and braiding each other’s hair?”

Suddenly, all the puzzle pieces seemed to fall into place. “Oh my god,” Merlin said, “I’m Morgana’s beard.”

“And Gwen is mine,” Arthur said. He took a step closer to Merlin. “Can I suck you off now? I’ve been waiting all evening.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Merlin whined, and Arthur took that as a yes. He dropped to his knees and started unbuttoning Merlin’s trousers, and _holy shit,_ Arthur Pendragon was going to give him a blowjob. “Arthur, I thought you were—”

“Heterosexual? In the vagina business? Straight?” Arthur supplied, then looked up at him through his lashes. “Let me show you how _not straight_ I am.”

When Arthur’s lips closed around his cock, Merlin decided that maybe the universe wasn’t trying to fuck him over after all.

* * *

**37.**

**Pairing:** Gwaine/Morgana  
**Warnings:** Mental illness (borderline personality disorder), emotional manipulation, threats of self-injury and suicide

Morgana wishes she could paint so that she could do justice to the perfect architecture of Gwaine’s face, could capture every hard line and soft curve of Gwaine’s body so that, long after they’ve died, the world might still remember how enduringly beautiful Gwaine is.

They fuck in the kitchen and the shower and the snow-covered picnic table in the garden, in the fitting room at the shop and the front seat of Gwaine’s car just because they _can_ , because it’s exciting and novel.

Gwaine’s lips are soft, stubble rough, hands skilled. Every time they fuck, it’s like a goddamn revelation, the world opening up to Morgana in ways she’d never imagined. Having his cock clutched hot and deep in her cunt sometimes feels like the only thing that gives her life purpose. She’d drown in him if he’d let her. She wakes up to his hard cock pressed tight against her arse and manoeuvres them, angles him inside her, rocks back until they’re pressed snugly together. These moments of being utterly consumed by him are what keep her breathing.

 

 

+++

Gwaine’s belly hangs over his jeans and he’s got razor burn and the way his nose whistles while he breathes makes Morgana want to suffocate him. He didn’t text last night to say he’d be late, and Morgana knows— _knows_ —it’s because he was busy flirting with that fucking bitch at work. Morgana has seen the Facebook likes, the lunch dates on Gwaine’s phone. She knows Gwaine just goes to work to get away from her, to spend his day happy to be free of her temper. He probably told everyone about how she threatened to cut herself two nights ago because Gwaine didn’t want to watch her favourite film again. He’s going to leave her someday, and it will be all her fault.

 

 

+++

“Fuck you!” Morgana screams, because it’s scream or cry, and she can’t cry anymore. “If you want to leave, then fucking leave; see if I’m here when you get back.”

Gwaine reaches out for her, and she shivers away, holds herself in tight because if she doesn’t, everything in her might fall out. “You you don’t get to touch me. Not ever again.” Even as she says it, the sense of loss is unbearable and she wants to take it back, but pride won’t let her.

“Morgana,” he says, and his voice is firm, steady, infuriating. “If you make me leave without holding you, you’ll hate yourself.”

He’s right, and she knows it, hates him for it. She lets him pull her down onto the settee, tuck her head against his shoulder. “You don’t even fucking care. I’ll be dead by the time you get back anyway.”

“No, you won’t,” he says, hand soothing over her shoulder.

The anger crawls up Morgana’s throat. “Don’t tell me what I’ll do. You don’t know what it’s like. I’m fucking nothing. I just hurt people.”

“You won’t do it,” Gwaine says, “because you know I love you.”

“Bullshit.”

Gwaine grabs Morgana’s chin, forces her to look at him, and she’s tempted to spit in his face.

“You’re hilarious and fun,” Gwaine says. “I love how honest you are, the way you bare yourself to the world. You’re brilliant and creative, and the things you do with your mouth—”

Morgana laughs, and it makes a stream of snot shoot out of her nose. “Oh, that’s attractive,” she says, wiping her face on Gwaine’s shoulder. He takes the moment to kiss her forehead. It calms her.

“You must hate me so much,” Morgana whispers, something hot clutching at her heart, wrapping her up tighter than Gwaine’s arms ever could. “You’d be better off without me.”

Gwaine kisses her mouth—firm, resolute. “I have to go,” he says.

Morgana tenses, rams her fists into his chest and tries to shove him away. “You’re going to tell them all what a fucking cunt I am.”

“I’m going to tell them all that you’re doing well, that you just got a promotion at work, that you’ve been winning some very important fights on the internet.” Gwaine lays kisses all over her face, light, fluttery pecks that tickle her, forcing a smile. “And they’ll say they wish you could have made it, that you’re always so fun, and I’ll tell them you wish you could be there too.”

Morgana sighs, slumps over to curl up on her side. “Sorry I’m the worst,” she says.

Gwaine doesn’t dignify that with a reply.

* * *

**38.**

**Pairing(s):** Merlin/Arthur  
**Warnings:** minor character death off-screen; talk of unsafe sex

Arthur could still hear Merlin’s words echoing in his head. _My mother’s dead_ It was like the bottom had dropped out of both of their worlds.

Arthur was glued to Merlin side from then on. He helped Merlin plan his mother’s funeral and had been his shoulder to cry on the whole time. He stuffed down his own emotions, which he had more than a little practice with.

Unfortunately, after the funeral Merlin pulled back from Arthur. His behavior was erratic and counter to the Merlin they always knew.

Merlin was almost never home and when he was he reeked of cheap alcohol. He was rude and inconsiderate.

Arthur knew it wasn’t healthy. But he felt it would be a bit hypocritical to come down on him, since a lot of people would question Arthur’s own way of expressing grief - which was not to express it at all and just throw himself into his studies.

That resolve wavered when Merlin started bringing home random men. Arthur had to continue to stuff down not only his concern for Merlin, but his jealousy as well. It was his own fault for not telling Merlin how he felt in fear of ruining their friendship.

One night, Merlin popped into his room. He rudely yanked out Arthur’s earpieces.

“Do you have any condoms, mate?”

“No. I guess you’ll have to send home your latest bedmate.”

Merlin snickered. “Why would I do that?”

“You don’t have any condoms?”

Merlin shrugged. “It’s not like I haven’t gone without before. I just decided to ask because Cenred wanted me to. I’m sure he’ll be fine with it.” Merlin left.

That was it. He stalked over to Merlin’s room. Merlin and the mop of hair he’d brought home were snogging. Arthur ripped the man away from Merlin. “Get. Out!”

The man started to argue, but thought better of it at Arthur’s growl. He stalked out.

To Arthur’s surprise, Merlin just laughed. “If you wanted a turn Arthur, you just had to ask.”

Arthur furrowed his brow.

“I know you’re jealous.”

“I’m worried about you, Merlin. I want to help.”

“The way you helped the night my mother died?”

Arthur was still struck dumb for a second and felt guilty for not being there that night.

“I…”

Merlin interrupted. “Look Arthur I get it. There is a certain rush in spending your life blisteringly numb and going from party to party. I’m having so much fun.”

“No, you’re not.”

Merlin sauntered closer to him. “I could be.” He gazed at Arthur’s cock.

Arthur decided he would try to jolt Merlin back to his senses. He pushed Merlin up against the wall. “Is this what you want?”

Merlin licked his lips.

“Do you want me to tell you that I want you and have thought of a moment like this before?” He nuzzled Merlin’s neck.

Merlin palmed at his cock.

“It would be so easy to bury myself in you. I know it would feel so good.” Arthur felt so many feelings fighting their way to the surface.

Arthur pulled back. Merlin was staring at him with wide eyes.

“There’s only one problem with that? It doesn’t stop the grief from coming back.”

Merlin’s started to squirm.

“I know.” Arthur held back tears. “I think of your mother every time I have breakfast and reach for a jar of marmalade. I remember her trying to teach us how to make it. I find myself listening to jazz music and remember the first time she taught me to dance. She’s all around us, Merlin.”

Arthur put his head on Merlin’s shoulder. “I know you don’t want to feel it, Merlin, but you have to.” When he felt Merlin’s arms around him, he sobbed. “I have to.”

Merlin wiped at his tears.

Arthur could see the moment it hit Merlin all at once. “I miss her so much, Arthur.” He stifled a sob. “Oh, God, I miss her.”

His knees buckled and the only thing that partially held him up was the wall and Arthur’s strong arms holding him to his chest.

They both finally let go of everything they had been holding in and finally leaned on each other.

~*~

They spent the entire night in each other’s arms and shared their favorite memories of Hunith. In the morning Merlin got up and made Hunith’s favorites to honor her.

They ate in silence, the longest stretch of quiet in hours.

Merlin cleared his throat. “Arthur, last night the things you said...about wanting me...was that…?

Arthur interrupted him. “I meant everything I said last night, Merlin. Everything.”

Arthur was rewarded with the first genuine smile he’d seen from Merlin in ages.

* * *

**39.**

**Pairing(s):** Arthur/Merlin  
**Warnings:** none

Red or blue.

That's what it comes down to.

Choice.

 

8 6 5  **9**  2 4 7 0 2    0 6 4 2  **ß**

4    7 2 3    8 5     **6**  3 5    8 0

7     **2**  7       ß 2    5    8     **3**  8

     8             3          ß    6  

 

 

_It's time to wake up, Arthur__

 

The computer blinks at him.

 

_They know who you are__

 

Arthur rubs the sleep from his eyes with a frown.

 

_You have to follow the dragon__

 

There's a knock on the door.

 

8 6     **9**  2 4 7 0       0 6 4 2  **6** **  
**

4    ß 2 3    8 5     **7**  3 5    8 0

7     **2**  7        **4**  2    5    8     **3**  8

     8             3          ß    6  

 

The club is filled with a writhing mass of bodies, moving in and out of Arthur's perception in the sharp cadence of the stereoscopic light. The rhythm of the music is a throb in his body, low and heavy, slightly off beat with his heart. For a second, Arthur isn't sure if this is real or if he's dreaming.

From one flash of light to the next, he's there. A man, pale and lithe, with short, dark hair. Ears. He’s staring right at Arthur. When he comes towards him, it's with the unusual grace of a dancer, his eyes glued to Arthur like he's the man’s single point of focus.

Arthur's cock fills, hot and hard inside his trousers.

The man’s shirt hangs open, and when he’s in front of him, Arthur can see the dragon tattoo on his chest, right above the heart. His pulse quickens. The man gives Arthur a meaningful look as he moves past him. Arthur follows.

He follows him through the surging crowd, bodies slick with sweat and high with the poison of their choice. Follows him along a dark corridor where it's hot and humid but the music is less consuming, and when the man stops and turns around, Arthur is breathing hard, dizzy with anticipation.

He’s half expecting it, but it's still a shock when the man crowds him against the wall, close, so close Arthur is sure he must feel the hammering of his heart. The man’s breath ghosts warm and damp along Arthur’s jaw, and when long fingers comb into his hair and pull him forward, the man’s mouth is even hotter.

The kiss is wild and wet, the man much stronger than he looks, holding Arthur captive with his body, rutting his erection into the crease of Arthur’s thigh.

"Arthur..."

A whisper against the shell of his ear.

''How do you know--?’’

''Because I know  _you_.’’

They move together, a frenzy of not enough friction, of the man’s hands inside his trousers, fingers tracing Arthur’s crack, of Arthur sucking bruises over the man’s collarbone, of teeth and lips and more.

More. Please, god, more.

From up close the man’s eyes are impossibly blue. Even more impossible is the tinge of gold.

''Who are you?’’ Arthur gasps.

''My name is Merlin.’’

''You are--’’

Merlin is a legend. The greatest hacker of all time.

''More important is who you are, Arthur.''

Gentle fingers brush along his cheek.

''You can’t imagine how long I’ve been waiting for you.’’

Arthur shakes his head, trying to clear it.

"What does that--"

The fingers press against his mouth.

"Not here. They know."

 

8 **6**  5    2 6 7 0 2    0  **ß** 6 4   

4    7    3    8 ß     **6**  3 5    8 0

7     **2**  7       5 2    5    8     **3**  6

     8             3           2      9 

 

Arthur has always felt it. Something is wrong with the world. But he could never quite put his finger on it. At night he rides the wave of electrical blips, the stream of data, looking for the answer, but he's not even sure he has the right question.

The doors to the elevator open. Three men in suits and sunglasses step out onto the office floor.

The telephone rings.

 

8 6     **9**  2 4 7 0 2    0 6 4 2  **ß**

4    7 2       8 5     **6**  3 5    8 0

7     **2**  7       ß 2    5    8     **3**  8

     8             3          ß    6  

 

The room is strange. Mostly empty. Run down. But the bed is comfortable. Merlin moves on his cock, undulating his hips as he rides Arthur. Always along the edge. The exhilarating drop just out of reach. Merlin’s hot, so hot inside, but it’s still not enough.

Merlin’s own cock is a long hard curve. Beautiful. Arthur wraps his hand around it. Drinks in Merlin's expressions like a man dying of thirst. His flushed cheeks. The bright eyes. Those breathless, little gasps.

_Beautiful._

When Merlin comes, he clenches around Arthur, wrings out the orgasm he's been denying him for what feels like eternity. Arthur stares as the splatter of milky white drops on his chest, wondering if there's a message for him to decipher.

 

            3       6      **2**  0           **0**

**7**  9        ****4           7    5 8

      8 3     **2** 3           ß       7

6        **9**        0                       2

 

Red or blue.

There are two pills in Merlin's hand. Choice.

Truth or Ignorance.

Arthur has never liked lies. The world feels wrong. The sun. The colours. Human touch. He picks up the red pill and swallows it dry.

 

Reality blinks out.

 

Arthur is under water with no breath in his lungs. His body is convulsing violently. Arthur struggles, breaks the surface, gasps. He's in a pod. His skin is milky white. There are cords and tubes sticking in his body. Arthur wants to vomit.

A hand on his shoulder makes him stop. Makes everything stop.

Warm blue eyes are looking at him.

This. This feels right.

The truth.

Finally.

 

 

* * *

**40.**

**Pairing(s):** Arthur/cisfemale!Merlin  
**Warnings:** none

The church ceiling loomed high with old wooden beams that creaked in the wind.

Merlin was already waiting in a pew, her long hair draped over one shoulder. The last time Arthur had seen her, she’d been across a battlefield, too far away for Arthur to make out her features, but he’d known her anyway by the pillar of fire she sent their way. No one else could conjure them that big.

Merlin turned her head to him as he approached.

Arthur raised an incredulous eyebrow at her. “You expect me to believe you slipped your entire guard?”

“You said to come alone.”

“But you didn’t.”

Merlin shrugged sheepishly and flapped a hand at the back of the church, where Morgana emerged from the shadows like a damn ghost.

Arthur hadn’t seen his sister since she defected, almost a year ago; he found his mouth curling up in a helpless smile. Morgana returned it with tense nod.

Merlin was beaming like a fool when he turned back to her. “So? You want to come over to our side, then?”

“No! What? I thought you wanted to switch to my side?”

“What?!”

They stared at each other in mutual horror. Merlin threw back her head, sucking in air, and Arthur could tell where this was going—another endless argument, another set of impossible plans for ending this damnable war. He said the first thing that came to mind:

“You should marry me.”

Merlin cocked her head to one side, looking confused. “What would that serve, though? Uther would call you a traitor; my people would disown me. It would just divide the ranks—”

“Are you— Not for politics, you daft idiot. For—,” and here Arthur could not quite get out the word _love_ so he gestured wildly between them, trying to indicate whatever glorious and inexplicable pull there was that had him sneaking out of camp, crossing enemy lines, and all to sit on a hard pew for a few minutes while a goddamn sorceress rolled her eyes at him.

Merlin was busy looking insultingly surprised. “Oh!” she said eventually.

They both faced front, and Arthur could feel his cheeks pink. “Trust you to ruin a marriage proposal.”

Merlin scoffed. “Well, what the hell kind of proposal was that anyhow, _you should marry me_ , for God’s sake.”

“You want me to kneel?”

Merlin sniffed primly. “Wouldn’t hurt.”

Arthur snatched a glance at her out of the corner of his eye. She, too, was a little pink, and Arthur experienced a hopeful swoop in his gut.

He stood, shuffled out of the pew, turned to face her, and made a show of sinking to one knee.

“Merlin, High Priestess of…whatever it is, sorry.”

“Albion,” Morgana hissed.

“Albion,” Arthur repeated and swallowed hard. “Will you marry me?”

Merlin sucked in a breath, held it. And for an uncanny moment, she looked every inch the sorceress that people said she was: unearthly, power coming out her pores. And then she shrugged, her bony little shoulders jerking. “Yeah, all right.”

It turned out that this ramshackle church had a priest associated with it, a spindly fellow with four or five teeth in his mouth and, it appeared, a lingering allegiance to the Old Religion. He went tongue-tied whenever he had to address Merlin but had no idea who Arthur was. The marriage ceremony was a weird mix of Jesus Christ and ancient spirits, with some blasphemous confusing of the Holy Trinity and the Triple Goddess, and Arthur could feel the horror showing on his face, but then Merlin giggled at him, her eyes sparking gold.

Arthur was going straight to hell, and he didn’t even care.

“You two going to fuck?” Morgana asked, deadpan, after it had finished.

“Morgana,” Merlin said, but yes, yes that was happening.

They were the given the priest’s own little cell, where Merlin sat on the cot and pulled up her skirts, skinny white legs emerging from underneath, and damn if the sight of her knobbly, perfect knees didn’t make him go hard in his trousers.

“What if,” she said, even as he wrestled off his belt and trousers. “Neither of us will _switch sides_. We’ll make a third side.”

Arthur fell on top of her , his cock slipping against her thighs and heat . “We can talk politics _later_ , Christ on a—” His breath caught in his throat when he got it in, and oh damn.

Merlin was pink-faced and smiling under him. “Okay.”

* * *

**41.**

**Pairing(s):** Merlin/Arthur  
**Warnings:** Ropeplay

Merlin raises an eyebrow when Arthur orders a particularly expensive bottle of wine for their dinner.

Arthur only arches one back. "It's not just any old date night, is it?"

"Hmm," is the only thing Merlin can answer, but he looks up through his eyelashes as he toys with the fork between his fingers.

Arthur's hand creeps higher on Merlin's thigh on the drive home, and Merlin shivers. The fabric of his slacks is tenting, and when he glances over, he sees Arthur's in the same predicament, one hand tight on the wheel.

"Me first," Arthur blurts as soon as they get through the front door, and Merlin almost falls over as he stumbles out of his shoes and shirt.

"Yes. Anything." They should have had the foresight to move their bag downstairs, but instead Merlin pins Arthur against the wall on the staircase, pictures swinging in their wake as Merlin bites at Arthur's lips.

They're both breathing hard by the time they reach the top and Arthur's stripping off his boxers just as they reach the bedroom. Arthur goes straight for the duffel bag in the closet, but Merlin stops him to draw him in a gentling kiss. He makes it deeper, but slower, petting at Arthur's shoulders absently.

Once Arthur's calm again, Merlin pushes him to sit on the bed, then retrieves their stuff.

He returns with a long length of rope, red, and a shiny pair of safety scissors.

"Stand up." Arthur does, and Merlin starts by putting the rope loosely around his neck, then some strategically placed knots. He finishes with plenty of criss-crossing up and down, with lots of pull throughs that make the whole harness vibrate and Arthur shudder at the knot placed right at the base of his balls.

Arthur's skin is a stark contrast to the red rope and his cock juts out from one of the criss-crossed diamonds. Merlin pushes him back to lay on the bed.

"Perfect," Merlin whispers, and Arthur lets out a long slow breath.

Arthur likes to be held when tied like this, so Merlin curls up to his side and pulls him close, one hand tugging on the rope to make the harness dig in, and the other starting to stroke at Arthur's cock.

He cries out as Merlin coaxes an orgasm out of him, leaning into the harness so it cuts into his skin. Merlin twangs the rope with a finger, and Arthur swears, oversensitive.

Merlin burrows into Arthur's shoulder as he waits for the sweat to dry on their skin. Arthur never takes too long.

Arthur doesn't bother taking off the harness after he sits up. Instead, he grabs several new lengths of rope, bright blue this time, and stalks on his knees up the bed to where Merlin's positioned himself on the pillows.

"Gotcha," he says, and starts wrapping Merlin's calf to his thigh, tying securely, then doing the other leg. Next comes his forearms tied to his thigh ropes, so he's left on his back, knees spread and in the air, with barely the momentum to thrust upwards.

"Oh yes," Arthur grins, and Merlin glares at him. They don't like to use a gag, but Merlin prefers not to speak anyway.

The moans he can't stop, as Arthur licks up his cock, giving him much too little, staying soft and wet around the shaft instead of the suction that he needs to get off.

"Not enough?" Arthur says softly, eyes crinkled, and Merlin tries to kick him. Tries and fails, and Arthur has to reposition him before turning back to his cock, massaging the backs of his thighs and around his hole.

Finally Arthur gives in to Merlin's whimpers and swallows him down. Merlin can't help but buck upwards, no momentum, but what he can get from his abs, and Arthur chokes just as Merlin comes down his throat.

Arthur sucks him through it and runs a soothing hand over Merlin stomach afterwards, waiting for his breaths to even out before untying him. Red rope marks ring his calves, thighs, and arms, and Merlin rubs at him before undoing Arthur's harness. It's the same process, but in reverse, so Arthur's shuddering from sensitivity again by the time Merlin's done with the pull throughs and frees him from the rope. Arthur has diamonds of red marks on his skin to match Merlin's.

Arthur kisses him thoroughly, deep and gentle while Merlin plays with his hair.

"Happy Anniversary, love."

* * *


	4. Group D (Warnings)

**42.**

**Pairing(s):** Genderbent Morgana/Gwen  
**Warnings:** N/A

Morgan and Gwyn first meet in a Medieval Literature course at uni. Their mates tease them mercilessly about being polar opposites, but they could care less. They're in love, and; _"Anyone who has a problem with it can go fuck themselves,"_ Morgan says. 

[](http://imgur.com/LjEptfY)

* * *

**43.**

**Pairing(s):** Arthur / Arthur  
**Warnings:** The Once and Future King discovers vibrators

One thing that Arthur loves about the modern era is all the _buttons_ everything has, and all the strange things that happen when he switches them on. The internal-nets thing is especially helpful, Arthur's going to use it to investigate the objects hidden in Merlin's nightstand - he's never seen anything with so many settings and switches!

[](http://imgur.com/RTy0DBY)

* * *

**44.**

**Pairing(s):** Merlin/Arthur  
**Warnings:** None!

Movie night gets canceled due to rogue crotchless panties. Merlin would be lying if he said this was the first time something like this has happened. 

[](http://imgur.com/1fmnSbn)

* * *

**45.**

**Pairing:** Arthur/Egg Vibe  
**Warnings:** None

Arthur presses all the buttons.

[](http://imgur.com/Id0BB6u)

* * *

**46.**

**Pairing(s):** Merthur  
**Warning(s):** none

[](http://imgur.com/dWKu2CA)

* * *

**47.**

**Pairing(s):** Gwen/Arthur/Merlin  
**Warnings:** none  
Fun times with bodyswapping!

[](http://imgur.com/v94UFcI)

* * *

**48.**

**Pairing(s):** Merlin/Arthur, Percival/Gwaine  
**Warnings:** None 

[click for bigger version](http://i.imgur.com/y5aaIRd.jpg)

[](http://imgur.com/8RkAMLK)

* * *


	5. Group A (No Warnings)

**1.**

“Thank you both for meeting with me on such short notice.”

“It’s no problem Geoffrey.”

“What seems to be the matter?”

“My Liege, My Excellency, as you know, I’ve been gathering together stories of your great deeds as part of my duties as Royal Biographer. Both you of you turned in statements regarding the slaying of the chimera, however there are some…fairly major discrepancies between the two.”

“Discrepancies in what way?”

“Er, perhaps it would be easiest if you both told me the events of the night in question so that you hear each other’s tale.”

“Very well. Merlin, care to begin?”

“I think I’d much rather hear what you have to say first.”

“Fine.”

_Arthur kicked open his chamber door, carrying the swooning Merlin in his arms. Laying him tenderly on the bed, he ignored the sizeable slash across his own rippling bicep in favour of inspecting his sorcerer, mewling pitifully into the pillows._

_“Merlin my sweet, what ails you? Shall I fetch Gaius?”_

_“No My Lord, you are the only one who can provide the kind of comfort I need.”_

_“Darling, you are not strong enough tonight – you know how it takes a toll on you.”_

_“Please Arthur, I need to feel you inside of me. Only the healing touch of the king can save me now.”_

_“If that is your wish.”_

_Arthur quickly stripped them both. With expert technique, he plundered Merlin’s puckered hole with his tongue._

_“More Arthur, I need more,” Merlin moaned wantonly._

_“Soon love,” Arthur soothed, gently sliding an oiled finger in the place where his tongue had been._

_Impatient whine escaping his lips, Merlin pushed back against the finger, desperate to be filled by his king._

_“I’m ready Arthur. My body may be weak but if I don’t get your cock in me now I’ll surely perish!”_

_“As you wish,” Arthur acquiesced, removing his finger and slamming in with his cock._

_“Yes Arthur, fill me with your massive love rod.”_

_Arthur ploughed into him relentlessly, knowing Merlin loved to feel the full reach of his giant cock._

“Okay, this has gone far enough.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that’s not what happened at all!”

“If I may interrupt – I was actually interested in the slaying of the chimera rather than the, ah, bedroom antics.”

“I’m so sorry you’ve had to listen to this bile Geoffrey. Allow me to tell you the truth.”

_Merlin flopped down in the bed face first, exhausted from banishing yet another evil creature from the kingdom singlehandedly. Beside him, Arthur rolled over and ground his erection into Merlin’s leg._

_“Please Merlin? You know how much watching you smite things turns me on.”_

_“Fine, but just a quick one,” Merlin sighed._

_“Hooray!” cheered Arthur, ripping open his britches in his excitement._

_Arthur didn’t have the longest cock in the world, but Merlin was above such things and loved the man despite his obvious shortcomings. Using his tremendous skill with magic to speed the process along, he stretched Arthur wide with a flash of his eyes and soothed the burn with a flick of his wrist._

_“Ooh Merlin, I love it when you prepare me with magic,” Arthur sighed happily, sinking down on Merlin’s cock, marveling at its girth._

“Merlin, don’t insult Geoffrey by lying to him.”

“It’s no more outrageous than the cock and bull story you fed him! I do not _mewl pitifully_!”

“And I beg for your cock, do I? _Oh please Merlin, you know how much watching you smite turns me on_. And what do you mean _singlehandedly_? I seem to recall doing quite a lot of the fighting while you got your stupid incantation to work!”

“My Lord, My Excellency, please!”

“Yes, well done Arthur. You performed just as well as a dog in the bear pits, baiting the beasts away from the warriors. Oh, except actually your performance was slightly worse than that given that I got scorched enough to need, what was it, _the healing cock of the king_?”

“Healing touch. Clearly there’s only one way to settle this. A rematch: right here, right now.”

“Please not in the library.”

“Yes, I agree; it’s the only way. Geoffrey can watch and record the events for historical accuracy.”

“I’d really rather not.”

“Uncover your eyes Geoffrey – I command you to observe and report on this for the official history. Let it be known that the cock of Arthur Pendragon is perfectly adequate in size.”

“…Yes sire.”

* * *

**2.**

Servant and Master

“On your knees,” Merlin commanded.

The latch to Arthur’s bedchamber door had barely clicked shut when Arthur obeyed. Dropping to his knees, he felt the stone floor seeping cold through his trousers.

“Hands behind your back. Eyes front,” Merlin said, sounding stern.

Arthur obeyed, although to his ears, Merlin’s voice could melt the coldest ice.

After a moment, Merlin’s hand landed warm and firm on his shoulder.

Arthur felt grounded. Secure.

Merlin gave Arthur’s shoulder a squeeze, but he did not linger. Instead, he lifted the crown off Arthur’s head.

Arthur didn’t flinch, although he instantly felt lighter, light enough to surrender himself to Merlin’s care. With his eyes straight ahead, he listened to the rustle of roughspun as Merlin stripped off his jacket and scarf. He licked his lips, hoping Merlin would remove his narrow leather belt next.

He waited, but instead of hearing the slide of warm leather through Merlin’s hands, Arthur felt Merlin’s fingers under his chin. Merlin ran his thumb over Arthur’s jaw, turning Arthur’s head so he would look at him.

“You’re doing so well today,” Merlin whispered.

Arthur wanted to do well. He sighed quietly, his gaze never leaving his manservant’s radiant blue eyes.

They began to play their role-switching game months ago when Arthur first realized that Merlin could help put the cares of the day behind him.

Merlin could always tell when Arthur had reached his limit in court. Today, the king had listened patiently while the villagers brought their complaints about stolen cows and tupped daughters, marauding bandits and failed crops.

In each instance, Arthur made a judgement, fair and just. He made decisions that would both resolve his people’s squabbles and ease the minds of the subjects of the realm. Arthur’s commanding presence, golden crown perched on his head and wisdom falling from his lips, earned him respect as the authority of the realm. But when the last of the petitioners left the great hall, Arthur was grateful when Merlin joined him as he retired to his chambers.

A nod of Merlin’s head at the chamber door told Arthur that he was willing to take over tonight.

“Unlace me,” Merlin said, stepping in front of the king.

Eager to please, Arthur slid his hands beneath Merlin’s tunic. He obediently unknotted the laces and looked to Merlin for further instruction. Awash with relief, free from making decisions at last, Arthur had only to rely on Merlin and he would be guided. There was no longer an opportunity for Arthur to make a mistake that might cost his people their lives or send them into destitution. There were only Merlin’s words to obey.

“No touching yourself,” Merlin said when Arthur’s palm involuntarily drifted to his own hardening cock. Merlin bent to brush Arthur’s hand away.

Arthur returned his hands to their position behind his back. He whimpered when Merlin cupped his cock through his trousers.

“That’s better,” Merlin purred, letting his fingers dance along Arthur’s straining hardness. “Suck me.”

Arthur obeyed, delving into Merlin’s breeches to free his cock, already hard from their play. With one hand supporting Merlin’s heavy balls, and the other wrapped around his length, Arthur gently pushed at Merlin’s foreskin and licked the gleaming droplets that seeped from his slit. Smiling when he heard Merlin moan in pleasure, Arthur hoped that Merlin would be pleased further by seeing his pink lips stretched around his cock. He took Merlin in, shivering at the feel of Merlin’s fingers tangling in his hair.

“You’re doing so well,” Merlin said as Arthur slid his warm mouth over Merlin’s cock again and again.

Arthur slowed his ministrations, seeking to savour the taste of Merlin’s pleasure as he came undone. 

“Almost,” Merlin said softly, a hitch in his throat. “Just a bit more.”

Arthur closed his eyes and sucked harder. He felt Merlin’s fingers tighten in his hair before Merlin’s come flooded Arthur’s mouth.

“So good,” Merlin murmured, as Arthur swallowed what he could, taking care to lick the remaining milky glaze from Merlin’s sensitive cock. “So obedient for me.”

When he caught his breath, Merlin took Arthur’s hands and pulled him to his feet. Arthur’s cock ached with hardness. He shook with the effort required to keep from surging forward to rut against Merlin, ruining their game.

Instead, he held his breath when Merlin pressed his forehead to Arthur’s and whispered, “Come.”

Feeling safe and loved, Arthur collapsed into Merlin’s arms with his release, his warm spend dampening the front of his trousers.

* * *

**3.**

“Are you sure?”

“For the fifth time,” Freya says, smiling, “yes. I am.”

“Okay.” Elyan's voice deepens, and he steps away. “Kneel on the floor.”

Freya kneels. All she's wearing is a flimsy nightgown, not much protection from the night air or the hard floor. The window is open, and the cloth rustles across her stomach, just short of tickling. She's already sensitive. “Anything else?”

“Well.” She can hear him moving around, pulling something off a shelf. “I wasn't going to, but if you're so eager, clasp your hands.”

Elyan sounds like he's humoring her, and it makes her neck prickle, makes her spine straighten. He's not going to be stern, and she wants to fight him, but she knows he'll stop immediately if she does. She moves her hands until it looks like she's praying instead. “Like that?”

“Good enough.” There's the sound of cloth rustling and then the hamper opening—Elyan stripping for bed. Freya stays still. “Are you getting wet?”

“Not yet.”

“Then we'll have to fix that.” And then he's behind her, urging her to kneel up with a hand on her ass. He nudges her legs apart, and then he puts his fingers between them, rubs her clit, getting her wet.

“There,” he says, when she's passed some threshold, squirming and making helpless noises, and then he slips away. There's just enough sweat on her skin that it makes her shiver when a breeze hits her. “Stay like that.”

She concentrates on her balance while he goes to where he left whatever it is he plans to use. There's the sound of the lube cap, and she clenches in anticipation. Elyan braces his hand on her hip when he slides it inside her. It's small, smaller than him, not the size to be a dildo, and when she's ready, he presses something into her hands—a remote vibrator controller, sleek and discreet, with more settings than she expected. “What should I do?”

He comes around in front of her, standing. She looks up at him, waiting. “Turn it on.”

“Me?”

“Find a setting that won't make you come but will get you close, I don't want to have to worry about it while you're blowing me.”

A surge of arousal, sharp and unexpected, leaves Freya gasping, and Elyan smiles. She tries the vibrator at its lowest setting, a pleasant hum that she could handle indefinitely, then turns it up, testing it until she finds a setting that doesn't feel too easy but won't put her over the edge. The constant buzz makes her feel like she's had a shot of espresso, a little twitchy.

“There,” he says, and reaches out to touch her cheek just like she touched his, guiding her forward until she can take him in her mouth.

Elyan usually likes slow teasing, but this time he goes fast. He fucks her face, and Freya is caught between making it good and the constant pressure distracting her.

He may not be going slow, but she still has to turn her setting down twice to give herself a break before his pace speeds even more and he says “I'm going to come on your face. Good?”

Freya nods and gives a humiliating whine. She can't speak.

He understands anyway. “Turn it up. So we come together.”

She turns it up slowly, as his hips stutter and his breathing shakes and her nightgown sticks to her skin. When he slides his cock out of her mouth to get himself off, she turns to the highest setting, the buzz so intense she feels like she's astride an earthquake, and comes as the first of his come stripes her neck.

Freya turns the vibrator off before the aftershocks end, oversensitive and overwhelmed. Elyan pulls her to her feet and helps her over to the bed when her legs wobble, getting her under the covers.

“How'd you like it, giving the orders?” she asks when he sits on the edge of the bed.

“Very much.” His mouth quirks. “I did feel odd, though.”

“You were wonderful.”

“Aren't I supposed to be telling you that? You really were.” He bends down to kiss her. “Do you want to try it again?”

“I think so.” She has a hundred ideas to try now that they've done this with him as the dominant. “Not too often, though. I'd miss it.”

Elyan kisses her again. “So would I. Maybe next time I'll get on my knees.”

Freya smiles. “We can arrange that.”

* * *

**4.**

"Uh-uh-uh-ah-AH-AHHH-Yes! Yes! YES!"

The sounds coming from Arthur's chambers were unmistakable and very loud. As if Morgana's nightmares hadn't been bad enough, now Merlin's cries of intense pleasure were constantly stealing her sleep.

The ecstatic screams and moans were approaching crescendo. Reaching for her largest pillow, Morgana covered her head. "Aaargh! Arthur, I'm going to _kill_ you!" 

When there finally was a lull in the love-birds' noise-making, she donned her robe, grabbed a candle, and marched next door.

Stepping inside Arthur's bedroom without bothering to knock, she took in the situation on the royal bed. In the flickering light she saw crumpled crimson sheets, pillows scattered everywhere, and two entwined naked bodies. 

The air smelled heavily of come. Someone really ought to open a window, but then again - Arthur's manservant _had_ been otherwise occupied.

She frowned. Were they actually _sleeping_? After keeping her up all night?

"Wake up!" she yelled vindictively.

Merlin sat up, blinked, yelped, and lunged for the bedsheets. 

Morgana shook her head, amused despite herself. "Too late to be modest now, screamer boy."

Arthur took his sweet time waking up, and made no efforts to cover himself up, the smug braggart. 

"Morgana! What's the meaning of this?"

She stepped closer. 

"I am here to give you an ultimatum. Either stop fucking, or move to Mercia. If you're that far away, hopefully I can't hear you two going at it like rabid bunnies every night."

In spite of the dim light she could see Merlin's blush under his dark mop of hair. The rosy tinge made his cheekbones seem more prominent. He tried to make himself smaller, burrowing into the sheets. In the nude he was extremely... fetching. How had she managed to miss this?

"I'm sorry we kept you awake,” Arthur said, not sounding sorry at all. “Merlin just cannot help himself when I'm giving it to him good, and who can blame him?" 

"Arthur Pendragon, you're such a conceited wanker! Merlin's obviously so desperate for it, he'd scream every bit as enthusiastically no matter who was pounding his arse."

"I would not!"

"Sorry, Merlin. I meant no offence... to you."

Arthur smirked. "You're wrong. Merlin always enjoys sex, that's true, but nothing makes him come as hard as when I bottom out in that lovely arse of his and ride him into the mattress. I'm the reigning Camelot champion."

Merlin nodded in pensive confirmation, his full lips pursed. 

Morgana was nothing if not competitive.

"There's someone here who could pound his arse _much_ better," she declared. "That someone is me."

It was Arthur's turn to blink. "You're joking."

"Not so cocky, little prince. I have bested you at swordplay before."

Arthur threw his head back, laughing. "Yes, but in this case" - he gestured at her crotch - "you don't even _have_ a sword."

"I most certainly do. I've an excellent blacksmith in my service, remember? Gwen has forged me a beautiful, fat cock and made a harness for it, too. And don't worry, it's been thoroughly tested."

For once, Arthur had no comeback. 

Merlin's eyes went impossibly wide. He emerged from his nest of sheets, studying her with sudden interest. 

Arthur swallowed. "You _really_ want to trade places with me in bed?" 

Morgana nodded, tossing her long hair back. "Yes, Arthur dearest. A tournament of cocks instead of swords and lances. It's right up your alley. And up Merlin's, of course.

She shrugged. "Why shouldn't women have fun mounting and topping?" 

Arthur was fighting to regain his composure. "It's not for me to put Merlin's arse in jeopardy like this. It's his decision."

Merlin didn't hesitate. 

"Yes!" he exclaimed, glancing at Arthur. "Yes! I'm in! I mean... they do say that variety is the spice of life." 

Arthur rolled over in bed, signalling defeat. "Very well, Morgana. You may try to prove yourself the better top to Merlin's little bottom. When you lose, you'll never complain about noise again. Agreed?"

Morgana nodded. "It's a deal. And if I win..."

Arthur chortled. 

"... _when_ I win, Arthur, we share and share alike from now on."

They both looked to Merlin, who nodded in eager agreement, clutching the sheets to his chest in pure glee. 

"Looks like that's a yes," Arthur sighed. 

“Tomorrow night, Merlin,” Morgana said. “My chambers. Be there.” 

She smiled sweetly. “My lord champion, you're welcome to tag along in order to watch and learn."

Arthur groaned. “Go away and let us sleep, harpy."

“Well, harpies and merlins and cocks are birds of a feather," Morgana laughed. "Together we'll soar to new heights!"

* * *

**5.**

Cenred woke up aroused and somewhat giddy for no apparent reason; rolled out of bed and snuck into the bathroom for a shower and relief. Aredian’s heat was still late; the doctor had reassured them that at Aredian’s age pregnancy was impossible and that all current and future irregularities were due to, well, age. Aredian had not been charmed, but his mind had been brought to peace.

When Cenred came out of the shower Aredian was _anything_ but at peace: he was panting; his skin glistened with sweat, and sperm had pooled on his belly, and trickled down his sides. Cenred breathed in the smell, and there was no mistaking it. His knot throbbed.

“So, we’re wanking separately now,” he teased, and dropped the towel on his way to the bed. Aredian fluttered his eyelashes but offered no reply.

Cenred nestled between Aredian’s legs and pulled himself up until his face was a tease away from Aredian’s ass. This close and intimate the smell was so strong it made Cenred salivate. He ran his palms over the insides of Aredian’s thighs and smeared the latter’s juices everywhere. The mess delighted him.

“You’re not going to try and shove that knot in me now, are you?” Aredian groaned. His legs tensed for a second, making it evident how averse he was to the idea. 

Cenred rubbed his inner thighs again, and pressed a small kiss on one of them. “Of course not,” he said, “But I will have breakfast in bed on a weekday. Take the initiative for _once_.”

He pushed Aredian’s legs up and open; flattened his tongue against Aredian, and gave him a hard, slow lick. Saliva ran down his chin, mixed with some of Aredian’s juices, but he swallowed plenty. The taste was divine: he was amazed at himself for not eating Aredian out sooner. He gave another flat-tongued lick, gluttonous for more, pressing his lower face against Aredian, and making active effort to make a mess. He vowed to do it as often as Aredian would let him.

He had been on the receiving end of facials, sure, and Aredian had been no exception, but it was one thing to clean off a spoonful or less of sperm off his mouth, lick it from the corners, and quite another to shove his entire face between Aredian’s legs. The rubbing of the sheets against his knot was borderline painful, but the overwhelming smell and taste of Aredian drove him crazy, and he licked him like a dog, his tongue flat and insatiable, careless for the dribbling down his chin.

“Open up,” he muttered between licks, “Open up.”

He pushed the tip of his tongue against Aredian’s hole and insisted, even of the ring of muscle quivered, and closed completely. He licked it again, making sure his tongue was pressed hard against the flesh.

“What the fuck posses- _ngh._ ” Aredian’s legs tensed and trembled; he locked Cenred’s head with his thighs. By the shaking Cenred could guess Aredian was stroking himself to orgasm, and he couldn’t do much besides caressing Aredian’s legs. 

Aredian let out a low moan and his legs clenched again and shook. He was tense and still for a couple of moments, then his hand hit the bed next to his torso, and his legs released Cenred’s head. Cenred pulled back a little. His nose was filled with the heady scent of Aredian’s heat and he realized there was no washing away for at least two days. The thought made him giddy again. He licked Aredian one last time, from his ass all the way to the tip of his cock (he was going to suck that as well, all in due time), and propped himself on all fours to offer Aredian a grin. 

“One way to start the day,” he laughed. He was going to worry about that persistent hard-on later.

“This is what happens when I let you take the initiative,” Aredian huffed, and rubbed a sperm-coated finger against his temple. His cheeks were flushed, but he looked better, and the urgency of every movement was gone.

“Am I that bad at it?” Cenred tilted his head to the side and gave Aredian the trademark puppy eyes.

“I’m not in the habit of finishing this fast.”

“You’ll teach me some tips and tricks for dinner, then.” Cenred pressed a kiss against Aredian’s knee and headed to the shower again.

* * *

**6.**

**Volgograd, Russia. June, 2018.**

He almost couldn’t believe it was real.

As the first notes of ‘God Save the Queen’ blared out from the loudspeakers, Arthur couldn’t help but grin. He’d dreamed about this day ever since he was a kid watching Geoff Hurst’s ’66 cup final hat-trick over and over on DVD. Not only was he playing professional football, which was pretty much the greatest job in the world, he was captain of the England World Cup team. 

Once the anthems were finished, Arthur led his team down the line of French players, shaking hands with each of their opponents as they passed. When he got to Lancelot, he lingered longer than was really necessary. 

_**Boleyn Ground, London, UK. September 2010.** _

_Arthur dropped his bag on a bench and took a minute to look around. He’d made it to the Premier League, the best football league in the world. Ok, so he was playing for the U21 squad rather than the full team, but there was still time. Not planning on wasting a moment of it, Arthur started to change into his new kit._

_It wasn’t long until someone joined him, taking up a spot next to Arthur. “You must be the new guy.”_

_Arthur held out his hand. “Arthur Pendragon.”_

_“Lancelot Du Lac.” Lancelot looked Arthur’s shirtless body up and down carefully before breaking into a smile and returning Arthur’s handshake. “Welcome to the Hammers.”_

Arthur felt the familiar rush of pre-match adrenaline as he took up his starting position. He glanced around the pitch, checking that his teammates were ready. His gaze landed on Lancelot and it was an odd feeling. Eight years and they’d never played against each other. It had always been a possibility once they’d both been selected to play for their country, but it had never happened. 

Lancelot spotted him looking and winked at him. Arthur smiled before turning back to face the French goal; his only target for the next forty five minutes. He couldn’t afford any distractions. 

The whistle blew. The game was on.

_The world may have become far more accepting, but football had not. Coming out publicly would have put an end to both of their careers and they’d both come too far to give up now. So while it wasn’t easy, they both had images to maintain._

_They’d been out in a club with some of the lads. Arthur had come back from the bar to find a girl straddling Lancelot; his hands slipping inside her jeans and their tongues entwined. It was hotter than he’d been expecting, to see the hands he knew so intimately caressing someone else.  
Lancelot opened his eyes and caught Arthur staring; winking at him over the girl’s shoulder._

_Later that night, those same hands were for Arthur and Arthur alone._

Sixty minutes in and it was still 0-0. They’d not found a way through the French defences yet. Arthur was not going to let his World Cup debut end in defeat if he had any fight left in him. 

Suddenly he saw his chance. Leon passed him the ball and Arthur had a clear shot on goal. Heart pounding in his ears, he drove it home, straight into the back of the net.

_“You were fantastic today.” Lancelot muttered as he slowly pushed inside Arthur. “They have no reason not to pick you now.”_

_“Can’t imagine playing against you.” Arthur groaned as Lancelot found just the right spot. “We’re a team.”_

_Lancelot kissed the back of Arthur’s neck. “We’ll always be a team. Football will never change that.”_

The final whistle blew. The crowd erupted, Union flags waving and vuvuzelas blowing as England made it through to the next round. They’d done it. Leon, who was closest, grabbed him in celebration while somewhere there was a BBC reporter commenting that only England would celebrate a group stage victory so emphatically. But Arthur didn’t care. They were one step closer to repeating the glory days of ’66.

Through the mass of arms and cheering, Arthur caught Lancelot’s gaze. He felt a pang that his success had to mean Lancelot’s disappointment. At least come September they would be playing on the same team again. Professionally, at least. Personally, they would always be on the same side.

* * *

**7.**

“Merlin!” Arthur's shout brings him from peaceful sleep to full awareness in record speed. 

He stumbles out of bed, runs out of the bedroom, his magic flinging the door open and sweeping the house for possible dangers.

“What's going on?” he shouts out when he feels nothing out of the ordinary in the building.

He runs to one of the barely used storage rooms where he sensed Arthur's presence.

“Care to explain?” Arthur asks, motioning towards the no longer covered figure sat on the chair. 

That's not how Merlin wanted Arthur to find out. 

*

“Start from the beginning,” Arthur orders, his eyes darting between Merlin and the still figure sitting in the chair Merlin floated from the storage room. 

Merlin swallows hard. He knew he'd have to come clean soon, but he hoped he'd get at least another day of careless happiness with his freshly returned king and lover. 

“About fifteen years ago, the first synths were created...”

*

_Seven years ago_

_Merlin has been successfully resisting temptation for a very long time. The first models were still too inhuman, eyes too glassy, movements stiff. Resisting was easy. The fourth generation started the yearning in Merlin's stomach. The adverts aimed at the rich, offering a fully personalized synth. Two years later, the rumours about scientists working on granting synths emotions reached his ears. Still, he resisted for days, months. Until he couldn't anymore._

*

“I was waiting for your return for over a thousand years. I'm ashamed to admit it, but I lost hope,” Merlin says. “I knew my magic could do what technology couldn't. I was selfish, and in my selfishness I created a life.”

*

_Seven years ago_

_“What sort of coding is this?” David Elster asks, staring at the text on his screen._

_Merlin can't tear his eyes away from his creation. There's recognition in those unnaturally blue eyes, the only feature differing from original on otherwise flawless copy._

_He curses and thanks his magic for storing a perfect memory of Arthur in his mind._

_“Arthur,” he whispers, taking his hand, his eyes welling with tears when he sees the so familiar soft smile on Arthur's lips._

_In that moment, he realizes he went too far. He doesn't regret it. He can't regret it. But he can't let even a piece of that power in the hands of a mortal._

_He guides the scientists into deep sleep, adjusting their memories, before deleting all the files. He's getting really good at combining his magic with technology._

* 

“He's not you. He never has been,” Merlin says, “my magic put just seeds inside, used my own memories of you. The seeds grew and formed a new personality. He's still a prat, but in his own way,” Merlin says with a smile, afraid to look up and see the expression on Arthur's face. “When I felt your return, he offered to step aside and give me time to tell you.”

“Do you love him?” Arthur asks. 

Merlin glances up, ready to find betrayal written all over Arthur's face, but it remains unreadable. 

“Yes,” he says truthfully. He can't lie to Arthur anymore.

“Do you love me?” Arthur asks again.

“Yes,” Merlin says, first tear spilling down his cheek. “I love you more than him, and he knows it. He's ready to leave if you wish him to.”

“How do you switch him on?” Arthur asks after a long pause.

*

“God, Arthur, don't stop!” Merlin begs.

“Which one?” two voices ask.

He can see the synth Arthur's smirk, and he doesn't doubt the other is just as smug. 

“Both,” he gasps as teeth graze over his nipple. 

“Careful. Don't let him come yet,” the original Arthur says, driving his cock into Merlin's channel at steady pace. 

The synth Arthur's hand slows down it's slide over Merlin's erection, his lips moving up Merlin's chest to his collarbone.

“What do you think, how many times would he be able to come if we just took turns at fucking him?” the synth Arthur asks. 

“Gods,” Merlin breathes out, the words pushing him over the edge.

He collapses against the synth Arthur's chest, gripping his sides as Arthur fucks him through the aftershocks. 

*

His limbs still tingling from his third orgasm, pressed in between his two Arthurs, Merlin remembers the awkward night just a week ago. The hours of both Arthurs circling each other cautiously. This sort of outcome was unexpected.

“Can you do something about his eyes?” Arthur asks. “Otherwise nobody will believe us we're twins.”

Totally unexpected.

* * *

**8.**

Arthur walks into his rooms only to be greeted by the sight of _himself_ fucking his fingers into Gwen’s cunt and almost spins back out again in shock. It takes him a second to remember that these are _his_ rooms and that is not exactly his wife and actually, wait a minute—

“Guinevere!” He snaps. Both parties on the bed startle, not having noticed him enter. 

“No, don’t stop,” Not-Gwen whines, wiggling on what should be Arthur’s hand. 

“Yes, do stop,” Arthur says, pointedly bolting the door behind him. It is the strangest thing to watch his own face go sheepish. “What in the seven hells do you two think you’re doing?”

“Having a bit of fun?” 

A small fire blooms near Arthur’s feet, going out just as quickly in his surprise. “Dammit, Merlin!” 

“Look, I’m sorry you had to find out this way, but it could’ve been worse, right?” Merlin says from the relative comfort of Gwen’s body, which, at the moment, looks far more pleasant a home than Arthur’s own weedy, magical misfortune. Merlin’s hips are still moving, trying to tempt Gwen into resuming the work of her fingers, which she does almost thoughtlessly until Arthur clears his throat. 

“It’s just so much easier from this angle,” she says. Merlin voices his agreement with one of Gwen’s purring noises, and Arthur almost starts another small fire when he claps to get their attention. 

“I’ll not have you two defiling the queen’s person!” 

“Arthur,” Gwen says patiently. “It’s my body, remember?” 

Arthur writes it off as some kind of submissive failure of Merlin’s that has him slinking away to Gaius’s second room with his tail between his legs. In protest, he ignores the uncomfortable stiffness in his trousers and tries to get the knack of making fire on purpose.

~*~

“Have you ever tried—?” Merlin leans into Gwen’s side, and whatever bug he puts in her ear makes her grin in a way that’s unseemly for a king at dinner. Arthur stabs at one of his potatoes as she turns her head to reply.

They’ve been doing an awful lot of whispering lately, and it’s becoming one of his least favourite side-effects of their switched bodies.

~*~

Gwen eventually corners him in their rooms while Merlin watches from the bed.

“When can we expect you to stop pouting and join us?” she asks. 

“I’m not pouting!” Arthur says, struggling to meet his own eyes. Merlin kicks his legs dreamily, hair sliding over his shoulders. 

“You should kiss him, Gwen. Works a treat on me.” 

“May I?” Gwen smiles, cupping Arthur’s face in her hands. “Just close your eyes,” she directs him gently, sensing his hesitation. 

It’s a lot like kissing Gwen, only if she were quite a bit taller and several stone heavier with muscle. Merlin’s traitorous body bends into her touch like a willow branch. 

“Told you,” Merlin says. 

“Your knees are naturally weak, Merlin,” Arthur grits out. 

“Whatever you say, sire,” Merlin says, taking to Gwen’s coy femininity in a way that’s almost eerie. “Now come here; we have something we want to try.” 

“Oh, I don’t—” Arthur starts, mouth dropping open at the way Gwen’s arsehole clutches at her — at Merlin’s slippery fingers — he hardly knows what he’s watching, standing at the foot of the bed while Merlin’s cunt sinks down on Gwen’s cock. “Are we sure this is a good idea?”

“We’re about to find out,” Gwen says breathlessly, bracing Merlin as he leans forward. 

As directed, Arthur presses Merlin’s prick to Gwen’s arse, carefully pushing until the head pops inside. 

“Ah,” Merlin says, the wince audible in his voice. “Ah that stings, keep going.” 

He moves as slow as he can, but Merlin is trembling by the time their bodies are flush. 

“You okay?” Gwen asks, stroking Merlin’s belly. 

“I’m bigger than I thought,” he jokes. “Let’s start slow, yeah?” 

Which is a fine idea at first. Merlin warms up enough to start helping with the rhythm, panting like the air is being punched from his lungs every time they thrust inside him. Gwen’s hand is wedged between their bodies, accounting for the increasingly slick sounds Arthur’s hearing as they begin to move faster. 

“Gwen,” he warns, the novelty hitting him just as the sweet pressure in his gut begins to crest. 

“Come on, Merlin,” she says, encouraging, wrist jerking fast and sure as he starts to shake again. 

“Fuck, yes,” Merlin whines, grinding and squeezing them both desperately. It shocks the breath from Arthur’s lungs, hips jerking as he spills.

* * *

**9.**

_—when you sneak into the night and hear them,_  
don’t you count to three;  
better run away  
or they will see, see, see— 

“I just wish I could come with you,” Elyan says, shoving his fists in his pockets. 

Gwen sighs. “I know,” she says. “I need you out here.” _I need you safe._

“I know,” he replies. “Just… be careful, yeah?”

“I will,” she assures him. She waits for him to raise his head and gives him a smile. 

She then turns around and faces the mirror. She raises a hand towards it and feels the yearning to get closer. When she touches the surface she’s startled to see her reflection flicker for a second; the creature in the mirror is her but it’s _not_. Its lips stretch into a menacing grin and she gasps, she wants to pull away, but then she blinks and—

It’s over. She’s _there._

She looks around. She doesn’t think she can ever get used to it; the bathroom, murky and unsettling before, looks even worse here. It’s not even the uncleanness that’s bothersome. It’s the feeling that this place should be abandoned being overshadowed by the knowledge that it isn’t.

She glances at the mirror again. She thinks she can make out Elyan in the reflection, an unclear and distant outline of worry and fear. But maybe that’s just her. She sighs and goes out, careful not to make too much noise when shutting the door.

Everything in her screams to turn away, get back to the mirror, to Elyan, to her own world. But she can’t. There’s still this _energy_ she feels, a light cuts through the darkness and guides her.

Magic, she’d called it. Morgana’s magic. 

She _knows_ it’s Morgana’s, even if Elyan doesn’t believe her. She doesn’t know what could happen that would separate magic from one’s being and cling to someone else. She both aches and dreads to find out.

The magic stretches out now, covers her surroundings and maps out everything that she can’t see. She’s learned to trust it and move through halls blindly, crawl and sneak around in order to avoid _them._

She feels them now.

_—they aren’t here to comfort you_  
or listen to your pleas;  
do not waste your time and beg,  
just flee, flee, flee— 

She’s barely breathing when she reaches the corner. She takes a few careful steps, not even looking in their direction, eyes set in the darkness where she knows she’ll find a doorknob. She touches the cold metal and presses down, only to find it locked. She barely suppresses a cry before she composes herself and turns around.

Settled on going the long way around, Gwen takes a breath and takes a step back to where she came from. The air gets stuck in her throat, mangles with a cry when she slips on something and knocks her hand on some thing or other in order to regain her balance.

And then she hears them.

In her panic she reaches a hand towards them, then squints at the light that bursts between her fingertips. Instinctively, her arm flexes as if to throw something, and the creatures let out horrifying, screaming sounds as they quiver under the magic she’s shot at them. They all fall down, except for one.

The thing stares and them before it turns to Gwen. Gwen is ready to attack, but then she hears the whisper.

“This is mine.”

Against better judgment, she raises her hand to illuminate the hallway and see the thing better. The recognition strikes her like a punch to the gut.

It’s her. It’s Morgana. But it’s not.

It’s everything Gwen loves about her. It’s all disgustingly exaggerated. Twisted. Ugly. But it’s still her soft hair, her piercing eyes. Her smirk, her skin, the fingers that Gwen twined with her own not too long ago. The body that she held against hers, the hands that caressed her, the lips that whispered in her ear and got to know places no one else ever had.

It’s everything of Morgana’s. 

She takes a step closer.

“Gwen!” She hears a scream. Elyan. “Don’t! It’s not her!”

_It’s not Morgana._ But it is.

The thing smiles and reaches for her. Gwen lets out a happy laugh and takes its hand.

_“Gwen!”_

_—if they do catch up to you_  
and you fall to your knees,  
don’t you fight it anymore;  
just join me, me, me. 

* * *

**10.**

_You’ve been working hard._

~*~

Merlin felt nervous as he re-entered the room from the antechamber, dressed in clothes finer than any of his own, with a certain golden circlet resting over his brow.

And it’s owner….

Arthur stood beside the table, already laden with rich food. He wore his simplest clothes – plain trousers and a white tunic, his feet bare. In a room only lit by firelight, he looked softer than ever before.

Merlin made his way towards the table, sitting as Arthur pulled out his chair. It was strange, being on the receiving end, but there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do for Arthur. And to see him looking calm and pleased? That was worth a little bit of discomfort. Besides, he did have his lover at his beck and call for tonight.

Arthur plated up Merlin’s food and poured his wine before going to his knees. They’d discussed this – Arthur wanted to serve Merlin for a night, but he also wanted to be more than a servant. They’d eventually settled on them eating from the same plate, Merlin feeding the blond from his fingers. From the slightly hazy look in Arthur’s eyes as he licked at his lover’s fingertips, it had been a good idea.

They ate in silence only broken when Merlin praised his kneeling love, a quiet “Good boy.”, “There you are, gorgeous.” Or “So good to me.”

~*~

_You deserve something special._

~*~

A bath had been prepared earlier, a hint of Merlin’s magic keeping it nice and warm. One of it’s better uses, Arthur teased occasionally. He didn’t tease now.

Merlin stood still as he let his lover undress him, a soft look in his eyes as he saw how Arthur had let himself slip into a calmer state of being. He stroked over his lover’s hair when he was in reach before allowing him to help him into the bath. 

Merlin groaned his pleasure at the hot water around him, relaxing back against the side of the tub. He couldn’t help but smile as he felt Arthur’s hands come down on his shoulders, his palms smoothing down across his chest, starting to wash him. He’d petitioned to have Arthur in the bath with him, but Arthur had insisted washing came first.

He let himself relax under his lover’s gentle touch, shifting whenever he needed to, guided by soft hands. Threading through his hair, scrubbing gently behind his ears, stroking down his body. Each movement thorough and loving.

Merlin was drifting slightly when Arthur finally stepped into the tub, straddling his lap. Arms went around his neck, fingers playing with the soft hairs at the base of Merlin’s neck as his lover settled himself.

“Come to service me, have you?” Merlin teased, opening his eyes in time to see a soft blush redden Arthur’s cheeks. 

~*~

_Let me go to my knees._

~*~

Arthur wrapped a hand around the both of them, fingers firm but gentle as he started stroking them together under the water. Merlin gasped softly at the feeling, leaning forward to rest their foreheads together, stealing occasional kisses from his lover’s lips.

They came together – moans muffled as their lips sealed together, breathing each other in as they slowly came down from their high.

This time it was Merlin who cleaned Arthur up, his hands just as soft and caring as his lover’s had been. He helped him back out of the tub, drying first Arthur then himself before leading him by the hand towards the bed. Arthur was tucked into his sleeping trousers, Merlin in his longer tunic, and together they curled under the blankets.

“Was that what you wanted?” Merlin asked quietly, his arm around Arthur’s waist as he nuzzled against the back of his neck, tucked up nicely behind him.

The blond hummed, a soft smile coming to his lips.

“Yes. Thank you.”

~*~

_Let me treat you like a king._

* * *

**11.**

**Relationship:** OT4 (Gwen/Merlin/Morgana/Arthur)  
 **Warnings:** None

"So, Morgana's birthday's next week."

"Stop right there." Gwen held up a hand. "This had better be something _she_ wants, not something you want."

"It _is_ ," Merlin said earnestly. "Will be. Should be."

Gwen sighed.

++++

The shop doorbell jingled as they stepped inside. Gwen waved at the cashier.

"Oh hell," Elyan said. "Gwaine, swap with me! I'm not helping my sister."

Gwaine, on the other hand, was all too happy to help.

"We only have three brands of this type in stock, but we have six for the gents." He waggled his eyebrows at Merlin.

"No," Gwen said. "This is not some desperate penis enlargement."

"Sorry mate," Merlin agreed. "It's for Morgana, you know."

Gwaine grinned. "Well, that should be fun. Send her my love."

"We'll take this one." Gwen set the very sensibly mid-priced, well-designed brand on the counter, with a bottle of cleaning spray.

"You need lube? For the seal?"

"We have plenty, thanks."

Merlin carried the package out, whistling.

++++

"Meeting at the kitchen table in five," Gwen said, plucking Arthur's phone from his hands. "At least take off your tie, you've been home for half an hour."

"I just have to finish-"

"And we're done here," Gwen switched his phone off and pocketed it. "Don't pout at me, Merlin does it every day and he's better. Plusher lips."

"I have plush lips," Arthur grumbled, tugging her into his lap. "I'll prove it."

He was nibbling on her ear when her phone beeped. She stood.

"Five minutes are over."

Arthur sighed, pulled his tie the rest of the way off and draped it with his jacket over the back of the couch. "Yes, your majesty."

She gave him a cheeky grin.

++++

"Merlin wants to try something."

Merlin cleared his throat, dodging Arthur and Morgana's curious looks. "I, uh. It's your birthday soon, Morgana."

She blinked. "Yes, and you will all be taking me to a very expensive restaurant, which Arthur will pay for."

"Well, I was thinking for after, if you want...." He gave up and set the package on the table. "That."

Morgana opened the package. Her eyes widened.

"Oh." Her cheeks were slightly pink and her eyes riveted.

"Should we practice?" Arthur asked, voice hoarse.

++++

Morgana lay back against Merlin and a pile of pillows, regal as a reclining queen (a naked, damp, reclining queen).

"Can I touch your breasts?" Merlin asked.

"Gently."

Arthur waited until Merlin was trailing fingertips in soft circles around her nipples before smearing a careful circle of lube around her cunt.

"Do you want to hold the pump?" Gwen asked her.

Morgana nodded, eyes closed, so Gwen gently settled the bulb in the curve of her palm before settling the clear cup over the outer lips of her cunt, wiggling until she had a good seal.

"Whenever you're ready."

Morgana took a deep breath, leaned back more firmly into Merlin, and squeezed the bulb slowly. Her breath hitched.

"Okay?" Gwen asked.

"Yeah," Morgana breathed. "It's just different."

Arthur hovered, his face near the cup, rubbing a circle on her thigh. He looked two parts aroused and one part fretful.

Morgana squeezed again and whimpered. Arthur whimpered with her.

Squeeze. Gasp. Merlin's hands tightened around her.

Squeeze. A long, shivery sigh. Arthur's circles on her thigh became frantic.

Squeeze. "Oh, oh, Gwen!"

"Do you need me to take it off?" 

Morgana shook her head. "Just hold my hand. I'm stopping here."

"Oh my god, Morgana," Arthur whispered.

The lips of her cunt were flushed and swollen, filling out much of the cup like a dark red flower. Her clit puffed up, the hood pulling back. Morgan's face said it either hurt or felt amazing. Perhaps both.

"Off, off," Morgana said suddenly, and Gwen quickly broke the seal and eased the cup away.

"Wow," said Arthur, at the same time Merlin said, "Are you okay?"

"Mmm," she whispered, wearing that floaty expression she got after several orgasms. "I can feel my pulse down there, like you've eaten me out forever."

"Do you want me to?" Arthur asked, voice cracking.

"Gently."

Arthur leaned over and blew softly on her lips. Morgana shivered. He stuck out his tongue and dragged it slowly from her hole all the way up to her clit. Morgana let out a wail, clenching her thighs on his shoulder and shaking apart, arching in Merlin's arms.

Gwen caught her hand, letting Morgana dig her nails into Gwen's palm.

"I'm trying that next," Gwen announced, just to hear Arthur groan.

* * *

**12.**

Gunshots are loud even when you use a silencer. 

~*~

The child has pale blue eyes and a mop of dark hair and he is not supposed to be there. Kilgarrah said the mark would be alone, but Kilgarrah doesn’t make mistakes – it’s a test. Merlin passes.

~*~

He meets Freya in a tearoom, and he thinks he could love her. Her quick wit is never cruel and her smile is sweeter than honey against Merlin’s lips – and the sex is wild and he savours the marks she leaves on him.

It takes Merlin a little over two weeks to figure out that she is a spy. He has enough mercy to shoot her in her sleep.

~*~

Sex is generally the fastest way to bypass any annoying security his marks hoard in their paranoia. Is it paranoia if it’s warranted? It doesn’t matter; they die nevertheless.

~*~

_I want information first,_ Kilgarrah says, and Merlin is a good little tool and seduces Arthur Pendragon. It’s no hardship at all because Arthur is actually gorgeous and secretly a sex god. Merlin has never come as hard as he comes after Arthur spends what must be hours fingering him open before fucking him beyond consciousness. 

Sex is only sex though, no matter how mind-blowing; it’s the breakfast Arthur prepares for him that makes him freak out a little. It’s only beans and toast and horribly strong tea, but it’s sweet and Arthur is adorable – that’s a bad word, Merlin is aware – with his hair sticking everywhere and the unguardedness of sleep clinging to his eyes. Needless to say there is shower sex.

He was told to learn things but he learns too many; how Arthur steals the blankets at night, but how he also tugs Merlin tightly into himself without fail, how he believes in honour and making the right choices, and how he struggles with the relationship with his father because while Uther Pendragon does not care Arthur does.

He holds onto the final piece of information for six days before handing it over. _It is time,_ Kilgarrah says and Merlin thinks _I can’t_.

He leaves his bag to wait innocently against Arthur’d bedroom wall. It’s empty apart from the gun and silencer hiding inside, waiting for their chance.

The evening will be perfect, he decides; he prepares delicious roasted lamb for dinner and pops a good bottle of wine. Arthur kisses him silly when Merlin shows him and it feels a lot like a little warm part of his heart is going to burst. 

They eat and Arthur smiles at him with his crooked teeth and praises his cooking. _Just wait for the dessert,_ Merlin says with a sultry smile that hurts him like he is cutting himself open. Arthur doesn’t seem to notice – of course he doesn’t, Merlin isn’t the best for nothing – and lets Merlin to drag himself into the bedroom. 

Merlin backs Arthur to the bed, forcing him to sit down and climbing up to his lap, taking a moment to bury his head into Arthur’s neck and breathe in his cologne and the underlying salty tang of sweat. Arthur chuckles, skin vibrating under Merlin’s lips, and Merlin smiles despite the sting in his eyes and rolls his hips forwards, causing Arthur’s breath to stutter. Merlin shoves his hands between them, blindly fumbling Arthur’s belt and fly open and then dropping down to savour the hard bulge in Arthur’s underwear. He noses at the fine fabric, mouths at it carefully, focusing only on Arthur and the little hitches of his breath. 

It’s not a blowjob he has in mind for today though, so with a pang of regret – never again, says a voice which Merlin silences – he retreats and they undress. 

_Can I?_ he asks, finger gliding over the globes of Arthur’s fantastic arse. 

He has done tender sex and loving sex and hate sex but this is something else entirely, something that breaks him apart with every loud slap of skin against skin. 

Arthur is gorgeous in his pleasure, the sweat-damp golden hair plastered to his blissed out face and Merlin loves him. _I love you too,_ Arthur says, voice heavy with sleep. 

~*~

The gun is heavy in Merlin’s hand. He switches the safety off, takes aim. Gunshots are loud even when you use a silencer. Freya had woken up. She had known. He switches the safety back on. 

~*~

The piece of paper Arthur finds in the morning has an email address and one word: RUN.

* * *

**13.**

Arthur opens his eyes and blinks, slow and sticky, eyelashes all clumped with sweat. The bedsheets under him are rough and wet against his sensitive skin, like even that is too much covering. The air’s thick, so thick and warm it catches on the way down to his lungs, clogging his windpipe, sweet and syrupy. In the haze, he knows it’s his heat and he wonders what it smells like to Merlin.

He’s got his thighs spread wide and he can’t help kneading at his stiff cock with the heel of his right hand--pressing it on his abs.

He swallows, says, “Merlin, I--” with the words catching on his lips. He licks them, pokes at the underside of his lower lip with his tongue, spit almost slipping out.

When Merlin grips his knee, the touch flares under his skin and he widens his legs more, long low whine escaping him without his consent.

His gut tightens with shame. He shouldn’t--

He’s so _wet_. Can feel it seeping out of him, out of his hole, making him ready, _inviting_. 

“Jesus, Arthur. Fuck--” Merlin says, rough, and Arthur recognizes the edge in his voice, and the way Merlin’s rubbing his dick against Arthur’s shin, rut taking over. “I don’t--Tell me--”

Arthur takes a deep breath. Behind the thick sweetness of his heat, he can smell the familiar fir and pine smell of Merlin. It’s sharper than usual, crisper, and he guesses it makes sense, considering.

He tries to close his legs--he shouldn’t be this open--but as soon as his knees touch each other they fall to the side once more, like his body can’t stand to be closed off, like it needs to offer itself. And well, okay, that’s exactly what it is.

“Does it always feel like this?” he says, hand going past his dick, deep red and leaking, fingers slipping in the mess behind his balls.

“Like you’re empty and burning and need to be filled up? Like you could be taken apart so easily and would love every minute of it?” Merlin says. His hand goes from Arthur’s knee, down his thigh, fingers dry, to spread over Arthur’s stomach where he pushes and stills Arthur’s hips. He hadn’t even realised he was rolling them. 

“Yes. I--yes. Like that.” Needy and vulnerable. 

“Yeah. It does. It’s always like that.”

There’s something reassuring in that. Knowing that what’s happening is normal, not some freak overloading because he’s an Alpha having an Omega heat. Knowing that Merlin goes through that all the time and is fine, loves it, even.

Merlin scoots closer between Arthur’s legs, knees sliding noisily on the sheets, one hand wrapped around the base of his dick, right where Arthur knows the knot must have started to swell from the rut, from the smell of Arthur’s heat.

“It feels less overwhelming like this,” Merlins says, and leans down, covers Arthur’s body with his own.

He’s right, of course. Arthur does it for him all the time. The skin contact calms Arthur almost instantly even if it makes the need inside of him burn brighter. Wet falls out of him even more, his thighs and arse tacky with it. 

“Does it always hurt like that?” Merlin asks, lips catching on Arthur’s jaw, voice shivery and low.

Arthur remembers how difficult it is at first to contain, to keep from just taking. Remembers the achy, burning stretch of the knot at the beginning, when the body isn’t used to it.

“It’ll feel better once it’s inside,” Arthur says.

Merlin ruts, moves against him like he’s fucking him already. He pushes his dick down so it rubs between Arthur’s arsecheeks, slicks it good, then slides it into the groove of Arthur’s hip, full knot knocking Arthur’s balls.

“Yeah?” Merlin says. “Is that--? Are you sure? I don’t know if--”

The haze of the heat made it easy to forget that Merlin’s never done this before, either. That he’s as turned inside out as Arthur. Rut where there used to be heat. Slick where there used to be knot.

He wraps his arms around Merlin. “Yeah, fuck me. Knot me tight. Fill me up.” He says it like an Omega, and Merlin jerks forward, hips snapping like an Alpha when he hears it. 

Merlin helps him by pressing Arthur’s legs open, and Arthur helps him by guiding Merlin’s cock to his hole, to fuck in good. 

His body arches into the fullness, takes it so easy, too, like it was made for it all along.

* * *

**14.**

"Switchboard, good evening, how can I help you," Merlin answered the call. The screen had flashed, informing him of an incoming call and that the caller had selected option 1 - which meant he liked to have a confidential conversation with one of the operators on call.   
Merlin was the only one there, manning the phones on Christmas Eve.

"Merlin, is that you?"

If Merlin had been holding the phone, he probably would have dropped it. Instead he continued to hear Arthur's voice through the headset. "Merlin, I need to talk to you."

"Arthur! You can't just call me on this number! I'm working."

"I thought this line was for LGBT emergencies?"

"It is!" Merlin said exasperated at his friend's thoughtless intrusion. 

"I _have_ an emergency, Merlin. I came out to my father tonight."

Merlin had been ready to give Arthur hell the second before. Now his jaw felt locked, mouth open and speechless.   
"What?" Merlin managed to whisper finally. He wished he could have managed a complete sentence, such as _"What are you talking about?"_ or _"Are you messing with me, Arthur Pendragon?"_

Because Arthur was his best friend and Merlin had been pretty sure he was straight. Arthur, who'd had a string of unfortunate relationsips with girls like Sophia, Vivian and Elena, had never noticed the way Merlin _really_ looked at him. Right?

"I don't think father likes his Christmas present very much."

Any doubts Merlin had about Arthur being sincere melted away. Arthur sounded alarmed and a little heartbroken. "What happened?"

"I just wasn't being honest with him before. Or with myself. Or you... And it's bloody Christmas, isn't that the time of year you should be honest?"

"A lot of people feel relieved, like they are no longer carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders." Merlin repsonded, remembering that he was here for Arthur professionally and his burning questions such as _how long have you known?_ and _are you seeing someone?_ just had to wait. "It's a good thing to speak up for yourself." 

"I don't need a pep talk Merlin, I called you because I wanted to be honest with you too. Because it _is_ you. It's you I can't stop thinking about. I think about those times I catch a glimpse of hard nipples poking out from under your t-shirt, or when Gwaine is getting handsy I want it to be _my_ hands that are free to touch your arse through those tight jeans. I touch myself when I think about you, Merlin. I think about all the filthy things I want you to do to me. I just didn't know how to tell you."

"Arthur..." Merlin whimpered.

"You're working alone tonight, right? Tell me you're touching yourself, please, tell me!" Arthur sounded urgent. 

"I am," Merlin agreed breathlessly, "I started to get hard the moment I recognized your voice."   
He'd rubbed his cock through his jeans at first but things had been escalating quickly and Merlin had gotten his cock out for some skin on skin contact. 

"I wish I was there right now so I could get down on my knees and suck you off properly. How you would like it? Would you want me to choke on your cock?"

"Arthur!"  
Merlin spit into his hand. This wasn't going to be a leisurely wank. He was painfully hard already. 

"Tell me! Do you want to come down my throat? Or do you want me to hold off at the last moment so you can fuck me? I have three fingers up my arse right now for you, babe, I would be so ready. I need to feel your cock slide into me for the first time. You'd fuck me so good, so very good, ohh...."

Hearing Arthur cry out in abandon as he orgasmed, sent Merlin over the edge too. He'd created a mess on his desk, the laptop in front of him was covered in spunk. Luckily there were no incoming calls or messages to be dealt with.

"When does your shift end?" Arthur asked after several moments of heavy breathing.

"Midnight."

"I'll come pick you up. Merry Christmas, Merlin!"

* * *


	6. Group B (No Warnings)

**15.**

It takes Morgana five minutes to notice she's woken up in someone else's body. It takes her another two, including thirty seconds of being dizzy from getting up too fast, unused to being this tall, to realise _whose._

Merlin's days are considerably fuller than Morgana had realised. She gamely attempts to do his tasks, though, as ordered by Arthur, who fortunately has a tournament to practice for and seems distracted. 

Merlin's body has a rather … physical reaction to watching Arthur clomping around hitting people with swords. Morgana can't stay out here like this, hard in Merlin's raggedy breeches, so she mutters something to Leon's manservant about cleaning Arthur's chambers, and beats a hasty retreat. 

Arthur's room really does need cleaning, but, well … the temptation is too strong. Morgana knows what mens' parts look like, roughly, from some of the illuminated manuscripts in the library, and she shouldn't, but … she wants to know what it feels like. Already it's different, strange, not the hot, tingly wetness of her more wanton feelings. 

She sits on the edge of Arthur's unmade bed to unlace her breeches, and reaches in. She shivers at the unfamiliar heft of the cock now in her - in _Merlin's_ hands, thin and calloused. The hiss of breath out as she strokes experimentally is involuntary. 

It makes such a mess. It leaks, wetting the shaft and making her hands slip over the velvet soft skin-over-muscle. She misses the feeling of fingers, though, the pressure-pleasure of being full. Before she can consider what she's doing, she lies back and slides her sticky hand off her cock and down to her arse. 

She knows men do this, although she probably should not. 

It's hard to get a finger inside herself this way. Even though Merlin's fingers are longer than Morgana's, she still can't get as far as she would have fingering herself in her own body at this choked angle. And it's tight, too dry, and altogether seems rather too much trouble - clearly mens' bodies aren't built for this - when one fingertip brushes something that makes her senses light up like a bonfire. 

After that she sucks frantically on her fingers until they're sopping, contorts herself into a bow on the bed, writhing, forcing two fingers up there against the dull bruise-ache of it, just to feel that shocky burn, the sister to the pleasure she'd wrung from her own body just a day ago. She almost forgets her other hand on her cock, all heavy and blood-hot and seeping. 

There's a clattering sound of falling armour and she looks up. Arthur has returned, and, god, what has she done, she's ruined Merlin's reputation, shamed him - except that look on her step-brother's face is not disgust or revolt. He's on the bed before she can draw another breath.

'Starting without me?' Arthur asks in a voice so rumbling-low it makes Morgana's cock twitch in her hand. 'That's not yours to play with,' he says teasingly, pulling her fingers out from her arse. 'But I appreciate you doing all the hard work.'

Arthur's fingers are wider, harder, and he uses three straight away. But oh, he hits the beautiful spot immediately, better than Morgana could at that wrist-wrenching angle, and he doesn't let up until she's coming, white wet spurts all over Merlin's lath-thin body. She wishes Arthur would touch her breasts, a phantom want, for Merlin has no such things, but when Arthur bends and bites gently at a flat nipple, she can't help moaning. 

'Can I fuck you?' Arthur groans, watching her spill the last of Merlin's seed. 'Let me, Merlin.'

'Yes,' she breathes, Merlin's voice rough and low in her throat. 'Fuck me. God, fuck me, please -'

She comes again on Arthur's cock, rolled over onto her belly like an animal, glorying in the rut of her cock in the sheets. She comes a third time when he forces his cock down her throat and spends in her that way. When the fire has burned down low, in the dark of the night, she comes once more in his hand, slow and gentle as he teases it out of her. 

In the morning, she wakes up in her own bed with a cunt and breasts once more, although she feels stiffer and sorer, in a satisfying way, than she remembers being before the switch. 

Merlin cannot meet her eyes without blushing for a week.

* * *

**16.**

Merlin’s never had a customer quite like Arthur Pendragon before.

He’s been the top switch at Avalon Kink for over three years now so it’s not like he hasn’t seen his fair share of interesting clients. 

Like Gwaine, a chatty Irish bloke who enjoys being plugged, whipped, face fucked, then cuddled.

Or Morgana and Gwen, a friendly couple who take it in turn to fill Merlin’s every orifice with their impressively customised hot pink strap-ons.

Or Elyan, a gentle soul with a new and increasingly bizarre roleplay every week. 

(“Where do you get this stuff?” Merlin asks, after a session as the ringmaster of a haunted circus who takes it up the arse from the ghost of a juggler. 

“I always wanted to be an actor,” Elyan admits sheepishly.)

It’s not only about sex. Half of Merlin’s regulars just want to be flogged or scolded or dressed up – or they prefer to flog, scold, and dress up Merlin. The point is, they like to do one or the other. Not both.

Arthur likes both.

Merlin thinks he has him pegged (pun totally intended) when Arthur comes in that first day and asks to be chained to the wall, locked in a cock cage, and fucked without mercy. He gets into dom mode for the second session only to find Arthur’s decided Merlin should be the one chained to the wall this time. Which is all well and good, he’s getting off either way, but… 

It’s unexpected.

He nearly asks about it the third time, after Arthur drapes himself over Merlin’s lap to be paddled, then switches their positions and summarily shoves the handle of the paddle up Merlin’s arse. Merlin doesn’t tend to negotiate that much before a scene, he prefers it loose and free, but he’s beginning to think Arthur should email him a schedule beforehand.

Ten sessions later and Merlin’s still no closer to an answer. It doesn’t help that he seems to be thinking about Arthur outside of work as well. And dreaming about him. And waking up hard and aching. 

He does his best to put it out of his mind. Fantasising about a client is not technically against the rules, but it probably counts as bad BDSM etiquette. 

Plus, he’s sick of having to wash his sheets every morning.

***

Then one Friday he’s in the club bar after a particularly excellent session with Gwen and Morgana. They tied him to the bed, and Morgana sat on his face while Gwen pegged him with an eight inch vibrating cock. Then they put him on his hands and knees and he ate Gwen out while Morgana spanked him with a leather glove. It was the perfect end of week treat and he feels relaxed and satisfied.

He’s just ordered his second drink when Elena ropes him in (quite literally) to do a pony-play floorshow with her. 

He heads back to the bar after; only to find there’s a Bellini waiting for him, and a familiar man stood beside it.

“Nice demonstration,” Arthur says, eyes twinkling. “You make a very cute pony.”

“You can saddle me up in our next session if you like?” Merlin says flirtily, and then frowns. “Oh. Unless you want to be the pony, or…”

He trails off and Arthur gives him an inscrutable look.

“Do I confuse you?”

“A little,” Merlin confesses. “Most people who come to the club… they tend to want the same thing every time.”

“I do want the same thing,” Arthur says simply. “I want you.”

Merlin feels a funny sort of warmth spreading through his chest.

“The first time I came here it was just stress relief,” Arthur says honestly. “The second time I was curious about what you’d be like as a sub. And after that… I just wanted to see you. I didn’t really care what we did.” 

Merlin doesn’t know how he stays straight-faced when he’s begging a juggling ghost not to throw him in the lion cage, but blushes like a schoolboy the minute Arthur compliments him.

“So you don’t have a preference?” he asks shyly.

Arthur grins.

“I like it both ways. Like you.”

“Like me,” Merlin says, and suddenly he’s grinning too.

“I think we should cancel your sessions,” he announces, and Arthur looks crestfallen.

“Why?”

“I’m not allowed to date clients,” Merlin says.

“Oh,” Arthur says. “Ohhh.”

And then Merlin kisses the confusion right off his face. 

He thinks he might have a taste for the unexpected after all.

* * *

**17.**

Merlin grasped the neck of Gwaine's tunic and brought him in for a quick and desperate kiss. He pushed him back onto the bed, straddling his hips.

"I missed you. Negotiations are dull when you don't have your husband there to distract you," Merlin said as he untied the laces from Gwaine's tunic. "I trust our kingdom's in order? Anything happen while I was gone?" Merlin asked. He stripped the shirt off Gwaine completely, leaving his torso bare and quickly rid himself of his own tunic.

"Just business as usual, you have a lot of scroll-work to catch up on, but I organized them for you," Gwaine answered with a grin as he placed his hands on Merlin's hips. "I missed you more than you know, Merlin."

"I think I know exactly how much you missed me," Merlin answered as he caught sight of a purple bruise along Gwaine's collarbone. He reached out and traced fingers against the mark, a slight jolt of jealousy and possession setting in his stomach before the arousal of the image of Gwaine letting himself be marked filled him instead. "How is Lancelot?" Merlin questioned. He leaned down to suck the same spot and ground his hardness against the hard muscles of Gwaine's torso.

"Annoyed to be on guard duty tonight instead of welcoming you home," Gwaine answered. "I'm glad to have you to myself, tonight," he admitted as he brushed the fringe off of Merlin's forehead and placed a kiss there.

"Are you?" Merlin questioned pulling away from Gwaine's embrace.

"You have no idea," Gwaine answered.

Merlin suddenly found himself underneath Gwaine and could only moan into the filthy kiss Gwaine gave him as he roughly worked open the laces on Merlin's trousers and pushed them off. Merlin moaned again as Gwaine's mouth covered his length and Gwaine began to suck him. His clever fingers pressed insistently at Merlin's perineum and Merlin spread his thighs in invitation.

"I'm taking Lancelot with me on the next trip. No reason you should always get to keep him to yourself," Merlin teased. He cupped a hand against Gwaine's jaw and stroked his cheekbone. "Fuck," Merlin cursed as Gwaine slid a spit-slick finger into him.

"You're tight," Gwaine said as he worked the finger in and out and stroked Merlin's cock with his hand.

"I didn't have someone with me like you had Lance," Merlin reminded.

"We'll need oil," Gwaine replied and quickly stripped off his trousers before crawling up Merlin's body and leaning over him to reach the oil.

"Mmhmm," Merlin agreed as he watched Gwaine's cock and balls temptingly sway in front of him.

"Hey! This is supposed to be about you," Gwaine complained as Merlin licked Gwaine from base to tip.

"Sorry," Merlin said with a grin as Gwaine moved back down the bed. He bent his knees and spread his legs as Gwaine coated his fingers. Merlin groaned and closed his eyes as Gwaine slid two fingers inside of him and crooked them just enough to press against his prostate.

"Look at me, Merlin," Gwaine demanded and Merlin opened his eyes to see Gwaine slide his mouth down Merlin's cock as he fucked Merlin open with two fingers and Merlin was gone. He moaned loudly as released in Gwaine's mouth, his toes curled against the silk sheets as Gwaine finger-fucked him through his orgasm.

"You're still hard," Gwaine teased. He hadn't let Merlin get soft and was stroking Merlin's over-sensitized cock. He slid a third finger into Merlin without protest.

"Yes, Gwaine, I know," Merlin replied as he squirmed. Gwaine handling his cock had him aching for more while making him want to pull away. His strokes became more pleasurable as Gwaine continued and Merlin slowly started to push into them as his cock began to leak. "Gods, just... fuck me already," Merlin groaned after a few minutes.

"As you command, my king," Gwaine said as he slid into Merlin. He fucked Merlin quickly, no longer teasing just pushing them both over the edge as quickly as possible.

"Get off," Merlin complained after a few minutes and Gwaine rolled off of him. He grabbed something and wiped them both clean. They settled in for the night, both quickly drifting off.

Merlin awoke briefly just before sunrise to the sound of metal being set on the hard floor followed by the soft sound of fabric.

"Welcome home, sire," Lancelot whispered as he climbed into bed behind Merlin and placed a kiss on his shoulder. Merlin squeezed the hand Lancelot wrapped around his torso in answer, smiling as he fell back asleep.

* * *

**18.**

Evening was always the best time of day. 

That was when Merlin would come for him, touch him, press down with his fingers, and then…

Arthur shivered with anticipation at the thought. Merlin would be home soon, he’d come in through the door and greet Arthur with his firm, possessive touch. Arthur gave a little shudder of excitement.

Arthur loved Merlin.

He couldn’t remember quite when he’d started loving Merlin. Actually, he couldn’t remember very much at all, other than the fact that he was Arthur, and that there was nothing better than the touch of Merlin’s fingers on his body. It was what Arthur lived for.

\------------------

Arthur didn’t like it when Gwaine visited. He sat too close to Merlin on the sofa, always touched him far too much. One terrible evening, Gwaine leaned in and kissed him.

For a brief, horrible moment, Arthur watched Merlin start to kiss Gwaine back. He was overcome with anger, but helpless to do anything. The lights flickered overhead.

But then Merlin pushed Gwaine away.

“No, I’m sorry, I can’t. He’s still out there somewhere.”

Gwaine sighed, sat back and ran his hand through his hair. “Mate, he’s been gone a year now. Maybe it’s time to move on.”

Merlin shook his head, and Arthur could see the sorrow in his face. “I know you all think I’m being a fool. But he hasn’t left me, I know he hasn’t. Something happened, and I will find him.”

Merlin often talked about the person he’d lost. Sometimes, when he was alone, he would sit on the sofa sobbing. Arthur hated that, it made him want to cry too. But Arthur couldn’t cry. 

Gwaine stood up and grabbed his jacket. Arthur couldn’t quite contain his excitement that the man was leaving and the lights flickered again.

“Think about it, Merlin,” Gwaine advised. “He was a real player before he met you. Maybe he doesn’t want to be found.”

“Gwaine!”

“Okay, okay, just saying.” Gwaine headed for the door. “Oh, and you need to get those lights looked at.”

And then Gwaine was gone. Which was good.

Arthur forgot about him again.

\--------

Arthur watched as Merlin lay back on the sofa, stroking himself. There were soft, low moans coming from his mouth. How Arthur longed to lie there with him. How he wished he could reach out and touch that pale skin, capture that full mouth, press his face into that raven hair and breathe in the scent of him. He wanted to be the one making Merlin cry out softly as he came, to feel the hot spill of come over his hands, to hold him through it so he wouldn’t be alone.

But Arthur couldn’t do that. He could only watch, and yearn. And then, gradually, forget again.

Afterwards Merlin walked towards him, reaching out with those fingers still sticky with his own come. Arthur shuddered with anticipation, knowing he was about to be touched like never before. 

He couldn’t help it, he wasn’t going to last…

“Damn,” Merlin said. “Gwaine was right about those lights.”

\--------

Arthur disliked Lancelot on sight. He was far too smooth and handsome, and didn’t look much like an electrician. Arthur was sure he really just intended wiring his plug into Merlin’s socket. 

Also he didn’t like the way Lancelot was peering right into Arthur’s face, and getting out a screwdriver and… OH! 

Arthur suddenly felt exposed, vulnerable. What had Lancelot done? What if Lancelot damaged him? What if Arthur could never watch Merlin jerking off ever again? 

“You’ve got something in here,” Lancelot commented, reaching for Arthur. “It’s breaking the connection.”

Merlin’s little face got close, peering in next to Lancelot’s. 

“What’s that?”

“I don’t know. There’s symbols all over it. Did you put it in there?”

Merlin shook his head. “I’d never touch electrics.”

Lancelot smiled, and Arthur hated him even more. “No problem, I’ll just take it out and… What the hell?”

Arthur was suddenly sprawled on the floor of Merlin’s lounge, stark naked.

“Arthur!” Merlin recovered from the shock first, dropping to his knees and hugging him like he’d never let go. “Thank God! What happened to you?”

Arthur’s memories were rapidly returning. Mordred at their door one evening, furious because Uther had fired him, his eyes glowing golden, cursing Arthur…

“I was a light switch,” Arthur explained, leaning close to finally capture Merlin’s mouth in the kiss he’d yearned for. Plenty of time for details later. “And you never stopped turning me on.”

* * *

**19.**

Merlin should have known better. He really, really should have.

But as the ball smacked into the back of the net, he knew he had no one to blame but himself.

\---

It had all started, of course, with Arthur alternately wheedling and harassing him; that was always how Merlin found himself in these ridiculous situations.

”I’m not making a sex tape. The whole idea is just way too awkward and terrible. Not happening, on any planet. With my luck, my mum would end up seeing it and that thought is more terrifying than I ever want to think about. Ever.” Merlin shuddered.

Arthur went quiet for awhile, before saying speculatively, “What if I score a hat trick against Mercia next Friday?”

Merlin snorted in amusement. “A hat trick? Against Mercia? Yeah, right. We’ll be lucky to score a single goal against them with their lineup this season. If you put three in, I’ll snog you in front of the whole fucking stadium.”

Arthur smiled and nodded to himself in conviction. “It’s settled then. Hat trick. Mercia weeps tears of blood. Sex tape. Best birthday ever.” Merlin imagined that to Arthur, that really was that, and everything would work out exactly as he imagined.

Laughing more, Merlin grinned and said, “Yeah, yeah, right. Hat trick, sure.”

And with that, Merlin determined to put the whole ridiculous idea behind him.

\---

At 2-2, with five minutes left, Merlin had completely forgotten about the bet and switched the ball blindly into the box, trying not to completely lose his shite at the arsehole practically punching him in the gut where the ref couldn't see. He wondered if he could subtly cleat him in the face somehow.

That frustration was quickly forgotten as the crowd went absolutely mental. Whipping his head around, he watched the ball drop to the ground after swooshing into the net.

Merlin froze as Arthur whooped in triumph and Percy picked him up and nearly threw him in the air.

Merlin hoped to god no one noticed how hard he was fisting his fingers into his shorts as he felt his entire body flush, from the tips of his ears to the ends of his toes.

Seriously, _damn him_.

\---

Arthur leaned in until he could growl in Merlin’s ear, “And remember to keep looking at the camera. I want to see every single expression you make while I fuck you.”

With one last firm kiss Arthur sat up and crawled behind Merlin, in between his legs. Barely pausing, he yanked Merlin's shorts and pants down to right below his arse and gripped him firmly. 

"Fuck, can't wait. Your arse." And with that Merlin found himself spread open and trying not to scream from the perfect heat licking at him. Mouth dropped open and eyes wide, he could only grind helplessly into the bed and stare at the camera while Arthur's weight pinned most of his body down. Arthur took his time, licking carefully around the rim and flicking the tip across. 

Merlin felt like he was on fire, gasping helplessly under Arthur while trying to keep his head upright when all he wanted to do was bury himself in the sheets and never look up again. He must look so, _so_ — 

With a great keening wail, he collapsed onto the bed and screamed.

Whimpering, Merlin felt Arthur hum before switching to long, soothing strokes starting from his bollocks. Arthur nosed at him a bit and huffed. “Merlin, I thought I told you to keep your head up. As much as I love watching you squirm, I’m going to want to see your face. No, this won’t do at all.”

Before Merlin knew what was happening, Arthur’s hand was fisted in his hair and yanking his head back to face the camera while he buried his tongue back in Merlin’s arse.

Merlin was absolutely not responsible for the sounds he made at that. In some far away part of his mind, he was vaguely aware that he would be mortified later to see himself moaning and begging like some wanton thing, but that thought seemed very far away with the way his scalp tingled in that exact right way — and then Arthur began to suck along the rim and Merlin lost the ability to think at all.

* * *

**20.**

Arthur doesn’t bottom. 

At least that’s what he tells Merlin when they start dating and the topic of sex comes up. Merlin feels disappointed for the moment because Arthur’s arse is ridiculous. 

It was the first thing to get Merlin’s attention, perfectly shaped and tempting in the most ungodly way; he’d spent three weeks staring at it in the uni fitness center before finally making the decision to chat Arthur up one afternoon in front of the weight rack.

That fleeting disappointment comes back though and slowly starts to morph into something else. They’re now three months into their relationship and Merlin finds himself increasingly uncomfortable whenever they have sex. Not because Arthur won’t bottom to him; Merlin is a very happy switch and Arthur inside of him is pretty fucking fantastic. No, it’s because it’s becoming frustratingly apparent that Arthur’s aversion to bottoming goes beyond having a cock in his arse. 

Far beyond.

Arthur doesn’t even want his arse _touched_. If Merlin is bent over sucking Arthur’s cock and his fingers graze the cleft of Arthur’s arse as he tries to keep his balance, Arthur will take Merlin’s hands and place them on his waist instead, a move always accompanied by a sharp intake of breath and tensing muscles. 

Or Arthur’s fucking him from behind, sliding into him slow and tender when Merlin is in the mood to be hurt; Merlin can’t reach back to pull Arthur into him because Arthur will just grab his hands and place them on the headboard or the back of the couch, robbing Merlin of the physical contact.

At first, it’s weird, but then Merlin notices that it’s _every time_. And when he tries to ask Arthur about it, Arthur just gets fidgety, laughing him off or changing the subject. But something is _wrong_ and it’s stressing Merlin out. 

\---

Merlin is heading home from the gym early one afternoon, worked up and ready for a good shag, when he finds his arousal waning at the thought of playing ‘palm patrol’ again in bed. He wants to be able to touch his boyfriend. Does Arthur realize how hard it is to fuck someone when you can barely touch them below the waist?

Merlin’s frustration reaches a peak as he steps into their apartment and transforms rapidly into confusion at the sounds of sex coming from his and Arthur’s bedroom. As he listens further, he realizes the noise is tinny as it filters down the hall; it must be porn Arthur is Arthur is watching. Toeing of his trainers at the door, Merlin strides quietly down the hall, hoping to jump Arthur mid-wank. When he gets to the open bedroom door, what he sees makes him freeze.

Arthur is kneeling in the center of the mattress, one hand fisted around his cock while he rocks back and forth on the fingers of his other hand. The sound is filthy and wet, and Merlin’s eyes flick to the bottle of lube lying forgotten on the pillow before darting back to Arthur. Arthur is turned slightly away from him, his eyes periodically fluttering closed as he attempts to focus on the screen of his laptop, sharp slapping noises echoing from the speakers; his lips are swollen and pink where he must have been biting them. He’s still wearing the faded blue tee he’d put on that morning, the shirt rucked up to reveal his abs and the deep V leading down to his cock. 

Merlin’s own cock is hard in his shorts and he palms it roughly, his arousal mounting as he takes in the sight of Arthur thrusting back onto his own fingers. One of the people in the video Arthur is watching cries out sharply and Arthur’s hip stutter as he swears and comes all over his fist before collapsing forward on the pillows. This Merlin an unobstructed view of Arthur’s arse, his hole puffy and red and still stuffed full of fingers, Arthur’s silver ring just barely visible at the rim.

Merlin can see Arthur’s back rising and falling as he draws in deep breaths before shifting his hips and continuing to rock onto his fingers. Arthur spread his legs wide and Merlin watches him force a fourth finger into his hole, whining and shuddering before adding his thumb. Merlin watches Arthur’s fist disappear, coming in his own shorts with a groan.

Merlin is going to need an explanation for this.

* * *

**21.**

“Arthur!” Merlin yelled as Arthur manhandled her into an empty room and locked the door. “Stop being such a caveman!”

She’s always been Merlin to him. Merlin, with her oversized clothing and odd neckerchiefs. Always smiling, always so kind that Arthur couldn’t help but want to protect her in what he thought was a brotherly manner, apparently not.

She shouldn’t be looking like this, all sexed up with her too tight shirt and fluttery mini-skirt. Were her lips always this plump? They looked like they were made to suck cock. 

“Didn’t want them _touching_ you,” he snarled, pressing her against the wall, one hand holding her wrists above her head, the other on soft swell of her hip. “Did you see the way they were looking at you? _Like you were meat._ ”

Merlin huffed, squirming in his grip. “You’re not my boyfriend, Arthur. Stop acting like it.”

“I’m not your boyfriend,” he stated, the words poison in his mouth. 

There was a moment of silence where Arthur just stared. There was a tight feeling in his chest, the thrumming in his blood and something chanting at the back of his mind to own and possess the woman in front of him. It simply wasn’t done. That she wasn’t _his_. He leaned down to kiss her, chastely, but only for a moment because Merlin _moaned_ , all wanton and needy, parting her mouth to allow him access.

Arthur devoured her. Licked and sucked and nipped at her lovely mouth until breathing became too much and he had to break away. “Am I your boyfriend now?” he asked, grinding his clothed erection against her. 

“Prat.” She tried to crane her head up for another kiss, but was only able to nibble his jawline. 

It was odd. That she was shorter than him. He wasn’t sure why that was. 

“I’d take care of you,” he promised in between kisses as he trailed a hand to splay across her belly, stealing her warmth before slipping into the waistband of her skirt. “Catch you when you trip over your own feet. Clumsy thing that you are.” 

She was wet for him. Her panties damp as he stroked her through the fabric. “Please,” he asked, unsure why his voice was so raw. “Let me?” 

She nodded. Once biting her lip to stifle a moan as he tugged her panties aside to stroke her soft flesh. 

He played with her clit, rubbing and teasing until Merlin was panting, hips hitching as she tried to chase his fingers for more pleasure. Fingers warmed and slicked with her juices, Arthur 

“ _Arthur_ ,” she pleaded, trying to ride his fingers, squirming and writhing. “ _Please_. I need it. I need you.” 

It almost had him reeling, the way she said his name. They’ve never done this before, but there was a trace of familiarity within her tone that made him want to weep. 

Arthur didn’t think that he’s ever been able to deny her anything. Not since the beginning. He let go of her, but only for a moment. His fingers felt clumsy, reaching for the condom in his wallet but he slipped it on his cock, tight at the base to stave off his orgasm as he brought the tip to her cunt. 

She clung to him as he entered her, legs tight around his waist as she wailed out his name.

Arthur had to clench his eyes shut, seeking solace in the warmth of her breasts as he swallowed thickly. He was seeing things, memories that weren’t his and yet, they were. 

“Arthur, Arthur, Arthur,” she chanted, loud above the slick, wet sounds if their fucking. 

She orgasmed first, and it had him beaming with male pride at being able to do that. He chased his pleasure in her, finding release in her rippling, clenching heat. 

They were still standing against the wall, catching their breaths when Merlin began to sniffle.

Arthur played with her shirt, undoing her buttons to play with the frilly trim of her bra. “I didn’t get to play with these,” he pouted, trying to cheer her up.

“You haven’t changed,” she said, crying with a smile on her face. “At all.”

Arthur smiled, feeling his own eyes water up. “Neither have you.”

She laughed. “You clotpole. Haven’t you noticed? I’m a _girl._ ” 

He shrugged and kissed away her tears. “You’re still you, Merlin. You’re still you.”

* * *

**22.**

"So you see," Guinevere explains, with a pained smile that says she's completely sincere, "even though I am married now myself, we do still care, very much. For you, personally, as well as for the relationship between our family and the Dragonlords. And that's why we wanted you to come."

"I understand," says Merlin, though his mind is reeling. "Thank you, Your Highness." The language is unusually formal for the two of them, and he feels the urge to bow, or kneel, or back away. Or else to step forward, thread his hands through her soft hair and pull her body to him while he kisses her, as he's dreamed of kissing her all along the journey to Camelot. He stands still and blinks, not knowing where to look.

"Obviously nothing's set in stone. You two can decide for yourselves. But we thought… if you did happen to hit it off, well, that would… we couldn't ask for a better ending than that."

Merlin makes himself smile and, finally, look at the beautiful errant prince. "No, I don't suppose we could."

*

Elyan has the noble bearing that Merlin's been working for years to adopt. His movements are precise and perfect. His body is made of sharp lines and angles that Merlin admires, even as he longs for the welcoming curve of Guinevere's back, the warm spread of her smile.

Merlin has been lonely since they named him Chief of the Dragonlords. He doesn't know how to talk to the other witches and warlocks who now bow down to him, and he doesn't get along with the non-magical royals who think themselves his equal or more. Guinevere always seemed to understand, and was always willing to fill the silences with cheerful talk, even when Merlin found his mind blank, his tongue tied.

"So, home at last!" Merlin says now. "You must have had some grand adventures."

"Not really," says Elyan, frowning briefly at the servant who carries away their plates.

"Is it good to be back?"

"It is what my father and sister wished."

*

At sunset on the roof of the castle Elyan pushes Merlin against a wall and tugs at his hair while he shoves their hips together. He is hard, and Merlin is aching.

"I can't be like her for you," he mutters against Merlin's jaw.

"No," says Merlin, "no, no one could."

Elyan works his hand between them and into Merlin's trousers, grabs his prick and starts to pull. Merlin grips Elyan's shoulders and feels the scrape of stone against his back. "Yeah," he grunts, as if his voice weren't powerful, with magic and monsters his to command. "Like that, yeah, please, yeah, yeah."

*

"I hope you weren't too disappointed," Elyan says as Merlin's preparing to leave.

Merlin shakes his head, not ready to put his hurt or his hope into words just yet, but says, "This can't be what you wanted either. Or you wouldn't have stayed away so long."

"Would you want to live shut up in a castle?"

Merlin doesn't answer.

*

The Dragonlords' seat of power is wherever their leader lives. Merlin used to think that would be Guinevere's castle one day, but after this last visit he understands he has no real reason to leave Ealdor.

Elyan prefers to come to him, if only for a few weeks out of each year.

"This is how it was before, when I was traveling. Far enough away from Camelot they don't see a prince, just a man."

"Out here you can be a Dragonlord's consort."

"Even better."

Aithusa, a dragon without speech, takes a liking to the man of few words and even deigns to carry him, along with Merlin, to a secluded spot on the mountainside. Elyan whoops with pleasure in flight and beams at Merlin when they're alone.

The family resemblance is strongest when he smiles, Merlin thinks. He leans in to kiss him and stops thinking of anyone else.

"Think of this as the roof of my castle," Merlin offers.

"I'll think of it as the edge of the world."

It's an honor to keep Elyan's secrets, even the ones he doesn't put into words. In the deafening distance no one else can hear his moans, or see the careful, practiced way he sinks to his knees, the way his eyes go half closed and his cheeks hollow around Merlin's cock. Merlin touches Elyan's face and feels the bone under smooth skin. He is dizzy and content. Grateful, at last, for hard angles.

* * *

**23.**

The wedding ceremony had been solemn, and the bride had been exquisite. 

The wedding feast had been raucous, and Arthur had basked in the companionship of his knights even as their ribald teasing made him blush. 

The wedding night was a huge surprise. 

~ooo~ 

Lance and Gwaine and Percival had escorted him to the bridal chamber, drunkenly singing and offering lewd advice. Arthur briefly wondered where Leon was, but then he was being pushed through the door, his friends’ last jests ringing in his ears. 

He looked at the bed and his jaw dropped. 

He would concede that he was a bit high from all the wine served at the feast. But he definitely wasn’t drunk. 

And that definitely wasn’t Morgana in the bed. 

Arthur blinked to clear his vision and took in the candlelit scene before him. There was the bridal bed, all white lace and embroidered silk, with the coverlet strewn with rose petals. 

“Merlin?” Arthur exclaimed, dumbfounded. “Why the hell are you in my bed?”

“Technically, it’s Morgana’s bed,” Merlin replied. 

“I don’t care whose bed it is,” Arthur said, his voice rising. “I want to know why you are in it! Is this some sort of wedding night prank? I am going to kill Gwaine!” 

“Don’t blame Gwaine. Blame your father.” 

“What?” 

Merlin answered bitterly, “Your father. This was his idea. He left you a note.” 

Arthur picked up the piece of parchment lying on the table next to the bed and ripped off the Pendragon seal. 

He read the note aloud to Merlin. 

_Arthur- I suggested a marriage with Morgana because she will make you an excellent queen. The people love her, and she is a skilled diplomat. However, there are reasons why you cannot consummate the marriage. I didn’t want to ruin the wedding by telling you beforehand, but I will explain it to you tomorrow. In the meantime, I know where your real desires lie. Have fun tonight.”_

“Yuck,” Merlin said. “Uther advising you about your sex life is creepy.” 

“Wait, wait,” Arthur said, sitting on the bed next to Merlin. “What does this mean?” 

“I think he’s saying she’s your sister,” Merlin answered in a sulky tone. 

Arthur must have looked confused, because Merlin added, “Your biological sister.” 

“That explains a lot,” Arthur said slowly. “Did she know about this?” 

“I guess she did, since castle gossip says she’s sharing a bed with Leon.” 

“Oh,” Arthur said. 

He took a closer look at Merlin. He was fresh from the bath, with his skin pink and his hair damp. He was wearing a sensual perfume, and his eyes were lined with kohl. 

“Who did all this?” Arthur asked. 

“Gwen, and a bunch of other women,” Merlin pouted. “They kept _cooing_ at me.” 

“You do look quite pretty,” Arthur replied. 

Then he did something he had never allowed himself to do. He reached over and ran his index finger around Merlin’s mouth, tracing the shape of his lips. 

Merlin started to argue, but Arthur shut him up with a kiss. 

~ooo~ 

It was fun figuring out how to get the best sounds out of Merlin. 

Once Merlin relaxed into the kiss, Arthur spent many intense minutes exploring his mouth. He got a surprised “oh” out of Merlin when he explored all the crevices of his ears with his eager tongue. 

Merlin’s nipples pebbled up nicely when Arthur sucked them, and Arthur used the silky cream the women had conveniently left at the bedside to create a nice slip when he took Merlin’s penis in hand. 

The first time Merlin came, it was after a mere five strokes. Merlin was embarrassed, but Arthur shushed him, thinking smugly that no one could resist his signature wanking move, a slow pull with a twist at the end, combined with a swipe across the tip with his thumb. 

Arthur was generous, letting Merlin come a second time before he thought of his own orgasm. 

But when he leaned against the headboard with Merlin in his lap, cradling him face-first and kissing him while Merlin rocked up and down on his cock, he came like he never had before. 

Arthur thanked fate that Uther had engineered the switch. 

~ooo~ 

The next morning a lavish breakfast was brought to the room, and the maid curtsied and said, “With the Princess Morgana’s compliments.” 

* * *

**24.**

Gwen comes through the bathroom window after her watch, which is how Merlin knows it's bad. She only ever sneaks in when she's worried about a trail or when she's trying - unsuccessfully - to hide her injuries, and Merlin hasn't heard anything on their stolen police scanner that would suggest the former.

Sure enough, when he finds her, she's slowly bleeding out in their bath. She gives him a sheepish smile. He sighs.

"What happened?"

"They had Ar- Detective Pendragon. They were using him him as bait, or leverage, or something."

"He has got pretty obsessed with us." Merlin eyes her. "Judging by the state of you, you didn't just tell them he could rot in hell."

"It's not as bad as it looks," Gwen tells him, "I already took the bullet out and bandaged my arm."

"You were _shot_?"

"Only once! I'll be fine in the morning."

"Yeah, because you'll be in bed in the morning." Merlin perches on the edge of the bath, curling a hand around her shoulder to hold her still while he sews her up. Gwen doesn't say anything, because she's biting her lip through the pain, but her eyes speak for her. " _Yes_ , Gwen. You're not allowed to die on me, okay?"

Gwen exhales, sharp, then lets her head drop against Merlin's arm. "Okay."

*

Merlin's watch is a lot quieter than he was expecting. There's nothing exciting on the police radio, and when he scales the rooftops, he doesn't find much more than a familiar blonde head coming out of an alley.

Merlin grins. He drops down behind Arthur, enjoying a little too much the way it makes him jump.

"You," Arthur says, when he whirls around. "I saw you- you were shot."

Merlin does little jazz hands, says, "Superpowers."

He's still not used to how his voice sounds through the vocoder. It's actually pretty close to a normal human voice, but it doesn't sound anything like him, or even like Gwen.

"Right," Arthur says, instead of the retort Merlin was expecting. Arthur sounds... tired. Being kidnapped by violent criminals so they can get to the masked vigilante you've sworn to bring to justice probably does that to you. "Look, I'm only gonna say this once, but- you saved my life." Arthur exhales. "Thank you."

Merlin softens. "Just doing my job," he says, and Arthur makes an irritated noise, says, "It's _not_ your job," and Merlin laughs. That's more like it.

"You're right," he says, "it's yours. As is arresting me, which you haven't even tried to do yet."

"Free pass," Arthur says, "for the life-saving," and Merlin grins.

*

Merlin's not sure how it happens, exactly. One minute, he's fighting off more goons than he has fingers to count on and the next minute, he's coming to on a sofa that probably cost more than his and Gwen's whole flat, and Arthur is hovering above him.

Merlin's first thought is all panic, but his second thought is that they don't have expensive sofas in jail. Third: his mask is still covering his face.

(Fourth: Gwen is going to give him so much shit when he gets home.)

"Wha-" he says, blurry, and Arthur's pushing him back down before he really has a chance to get up.

"Are you trying to kill yourself? Because you're doing a stellar job, lately."

"Says you," Merlin mumbles, "I'm still not arrested."

"Free pass," Arthur says, soft, and Merlin doesn't think, just slides his hands up the arms that are still braced on his chest and pulls Arthur down.

It's a weird slide, their bodies together, not exactly smooth or comfortable, because Arthur's fully-clothed and Merlin's in his battered suit and can't really feel much except pain. It's the good kind, though, that draws little gasps out of him with every movement, every wound and bruise sparking hot white under his skin. Arthur is touching Merlin so gently, like he's scared of hurting him. Merlin's not sure he can make words for the way he wants Arthur to clutch him tight, dig his nails into Merlin's suit, rut into him until one of them comes, or Merlin passes out again.

It turns out not to matter; Arthur grazes the shallow gash on Merlin's stomach, and that coupled with the steady friction around Merlin's crotch sends him over the edge. Merlin exhales, ragged, and promptly passes out.

* * *

**25.**

He was born in a cold room at the back of a building, while lightning split the skies and rain leaked all over the roof and drip drip dripped down the walls. 

Not that he noticed.

All he remembers is waking up, a bright surge of energy running through him, tickling and thrilling, and the world coming into light around him.

*

The world is square, contains the Table and the Four Chairs and the Stove, and sometimes, the People, who appear out of nowhere and then, poof, disappear again. He can’t decide if he believes they’re real, or if he’s only imagining them, but the littlest girl called him Merlin, because he is like magic, and well, Merlin certainly believes in flattery.

Most of all there is the Bulb, and the wire connecting them, and the raw power of their bond. 

The Bulb is an angry thing. It rants every time it’s turned on, calling Merlin all sorts of names for shutting it off, even though it wasn’t Merlin’s fault. 

But that is the way of the Bulb.

*

Or, one bulb, as it turns out. One morning, Merlin wakes up and Uther’s gone. In his stead, there’s Gaius. He wonders if it’s like with the People, and if Gaius is Uther’s child.

“Don’t be an idiot,” says Gaius, and enlightens him to the ways of the world.

Apparently, Merlin is not Gaius’ first. He has been to other rooms, and in Merlin’s imagination, the world expands. It turns out there’s three other rooms out there, maybe even more, all different. He learns about the Bed, and floral-patterned wall paper, and Plants. 

He’d love to travel someday, like Gaius.

Gaius is a lot more fun than Uther. They have chats till deep in the night, and Merlin is happy.

*

He’d hate the new bulb on principle, except it really is very annoying.

“Come on, Merlin, give me more energy!”

“It’s not _my_ fault you’re not the brightest bulb,” Merlin says, snottily, except, unfortunately, Arthur is. The brightest bulb, that is. He shines with a golden glow that is strangely mesmerising, makes the whole world look a little more magical, a little better, and he is _the absolute worst_.

“You look rather shabby, has no one ever polished you?” and “well, of course, no one would notice, they’re all busy looking at _me_ ” and “Your service is severely lacking” after someone flips Merlin in the middle of Arthur humming a song. 

“You would be nothing without me,” Merlin mutters and wakes Arthur obnoxiously early the next day. Arthur sputters weakly.

“Rise and shine!” Merlin hollers, then basks in Arthur’s glare.

Merlin smiles for the rest of the day and hums a song of his own.

*

Arthur is very quiet the next day.

“Don’t tell me you’ve burned out already.”

“… They almost replaced you yesterday,” Arthur mutters. “How many times must I tell you, don’t go towards the light.”

“Ha,” says Merlin, but he does feel a bit different. Or maybe it’s Arthur. A sharp spark of energy shivers down his spine and into Arthur’s, and Merlin thinks that maybe, Arthur shines even brighter than usual, his round bottom gleaming appealingly.

The energy between them tightens, and Arthur says, very quiet, “I really am nothing without you,” and Merlin knows it’s not true, but oh, it makes him feel like he’s glowing inside, too; he’s flushed with delicious electricity, lets it crash into Arthur. He looks a bit dazed and overbright; and Merlin does it again, and again, just because he can. 

Arthur is still annoying, and bossy, and loud, and _lovely_. The current spikes sharply throughout Merlin’s body, and he thinks he might have exploded, a series of tiny explosions in a row; Arthur goes whitehot, before going soft, so soft and Merlin just sits there, on the wall, not quite sure what just happened. This might be better than travelling.

*

He’s not ready for Arthur to go away.

*

Eventually, the People leave, and there’s nothing.

*

When he wakes up again, the world is a different place. It’s bigger, for one, and he learns about the Television, and the Playstation and Central Heating. He’s travelling, at last. It’s lonelier than he expected.

The People call him Antique and he wants to tell them, no, it’s Merlin. Stupid people.

*

And then one day, he hears, “Hey. Still the laziest light switch around, are you?”

And there he is, shiny and new, but undeniably _Arthur_.

Merlin trembles. He says “ _You_ ’re lazy,” instead of “You make my world a brighter place”, but Arthur understands anyway.

*

Together, they shine.

* * *

**26.**

Arthur used to trust destiny. 

With the mark of his soulmate inked into his skin, it was easy to feel like the universe was looking out for him. As if destiny pulled him towards the place he was supposed to be, even when he took long and winding detours. 

Merlin is a detour. 

Bright, exciting, beautiful. 

“I’m not your match,” Merlin had said under the fairylights at Morgana’s garden party, “but I like you.”

Merlin’s mark is an intricate, abstract pattern in the crook of his elbow. The first time Arthur fucked him, Merlin pressed his face into it, arm slung over his head. He was pliant under Arthur’s hands, fucked out and sated, and Arthur liked the feel of him, liked they way they fit. It was easy like this, being good together, even as they both knew they weren’t destined for each other.

Arthur doesn’t trust destiny anymore. 

He spreads his thighs wider, his legs hooked over Merlin’s thighs where he sits on his knees, dick deep in Arthur’s arse. Merlin drags him back into every thrust, grip firm and bruising. His arse is so full and he still wants more, feels like something is missing, that little thing he can’t put his finger on. He grinds down on Merlin’s dick, head thrown back against the mattress. 

Gripping his own cock, he jerks himself in time with Merlin stuffing him full. 

“God, yeah, Arthur,” Merlin says, hands rubbing soothing circles on his skin. “Keep doing that.”

Arthur looks at him, raises a mocking eyebrow like he always does when Merlin starts getting mouthy and toes the line towards cheesy porn dialogue. He gets distracted when a finger traces the rim of his hole and his leg jerks. 

Merlin laughs, delighted, and Arthur wants to fuck him so hard, fuck the mark belonging to someone else right off his body.

He grabs onto Merlin’s arms and uses his grip to grind himself on Merlin’s thick cock, his breath stuttering. Merlin’s mouth goes slack.

“Fuck, I want this,” Merlin says, and even through the frantic haze, it makes Arthur pause. 

Their eyes meet and they both know it’s not that simple, not when destiny has promised them away to someone else. Arthur’s anger bubbles to the surface and he groans, low and harsh, not knowing if it’s from the anger, the pleasure or both. 

“I don’t care about the mark, I want to be with you, I want–” Merlin moans, stilling inside Arthur for a moment before he sets up another bruising rhythm. 

“Me too, Merlin, fuck. The mark, I’ll get a tattoo over it. I’ll–”

Merlin laughs, hysterical, and comes.

\---

They yell each other’s name at the same time and Arthur stumbles over the kitchen chair in his haste to get to Merlin, only to collide with him in the doorway to the bathroom. He grabs him by the t-shirt and holds on, knuckles whitening.

“Is yours–?”

“Yes.” Merlin is breathless. 

At the crook of Merlin’s elbow is a small, intricate coin, identical to the one that has overwritten Arthur’s own mark. He presses two fingers against it, traces the outline, his hand shaking. 

It’s destiny’s turn to trust Arthur.

* * *

**27.**

Merlin tests the weight of the sleek black box in the palm of his hand. He hums then pauses, brings the box up to his ear and rattles it.

Arthur huffs. “Merlin, would you just open it?”

“It looks expensive.”

“You haven’t even seen it yet.”

“Yes, but – “

“ _Merlin._ ”

Merlin sighs in resignation and shifts into a cross-legged position. He runs his fingers over the slick material before carefully sliding the lid off.

“I –“ 

He breaks off and swallows. It’s an Italian stiletto; the handle black and gold, the metal smooth against Merlin’s fingers. He slides the automatic switch and the blade flips open – he drags his thumb over the edge; it’s razor sharp, and his cock twitches. 

“Do you like it?” Arthur asks, a nervous hitch to his voice.

“God, yes. It’s gorgeous,” he looks up at Arthur from beneath his lashes and bites his lip. “Does this…does this mean that you…?”

“Yeah…yes. I’d like to try – if you still want?”

Merlin nods. “I want.”

***

Half an hour later, Merlin's cock is straining and rock hard in his pants; the anticipation making focusing on anything else impossible.

Arthur presses another wet, open-mouthed kiss just beneath his jaw and Merlin tilts his head to the side to give him access. The switchblade is lying on the pillow, tantalizing; the gold of it glimmering where the overhead light reflects off of it. Merlin doesn’t want to _wait_. 

He fists his hands into the side of Arthur’s shirt and whimpers.

“Arthur, c’mon, please. Just. _Please_.”

Arthur places one last kiss against his cheek. “Shh, okay. All right,” he says, and sits up to straddle Merlin’s hips. He tugs his shirt over his head and Merlin rests his hands just above the waistband of Arthur’s pants. 

Merlin shuts his eyes and breathes out through his mouth when Arthur leans over to get the knife.

There’s a beat of silence, and then Arthur’s voice, soothing but stern: “Open your eyes. Want you to watch, yeah?”

Merlin does. He watches Arthur flip open the blade and place the side of across Merlin’s neck. He slides it down, to the neckline of his shirt and then even further, ripping the fabric.

Arthur follows with his mouth, leaving hot kisses and bites just after the cool touch of the blade against his skin.

When his shirt is gone, Arthur strips them both of their pants, and settles back on top of Merlin. 

The blade is back on his skin, right at the juncture of his neck and jaw. Arthur presses down gently, enough to feel the pressure, but not break any skin. Merlin clenches his jaw. 

Arthur ruts against Merlin as he leans down to kiss his mouth, nipping at Merlin’s bottom lip. 

It feels like his sense of touch has been kicked into overdrive; everywhere Arthur touches – every kiss and point of contact – makes him feel like he’s on fire. 

The blade hasn’t moved, and Merlin can’t tell if Arthur’s being a tease or if he’s still nervous. Merlin grasps Arthur’s wrist, gradually dragging it down until the blade is resting against his sternum.

“C’mon, it’s okay,” he mutters into Arthur’s mouth. 

Arthur sits back and slides the blade over Merlin’s skin, pressing his free hand over Merlin’s lower navel when his hips stutter. 

Arthur takes both of their cocks into his hand, jerking them off as he traces the blade against down to Merlin’s navel, and then up to circle his nipples.

“Arthur, bloody fuck, stop messing ar – _oh_ –“ Merlin hisses and arches when Arthur nicks the skin just beneath his collarbone.

“ _Shit_ ,” Arthur mutters. He abandons the knife in favor of smearing the spilled blood against Merlin’s skin. Arthur drags his thumb through it, and brings it up to Merlin’s lips, rubbing the wetness across his mouth. 

Merlin moans and sucks Arthur’s thumb into his mouth, mind going heady at the metallic scent and taste.

“You look so fucking good, God, Merlin,” Arthur groans, fisting their cocks and pushing his thumb in and out Merlin’s mouth. 

Merlin comes right after Arthur does, and watches with half-lidded eyes as Arthur runs his fingers through the mess, spreading their come and the blood across Merlin’s chest.

He looks just as dazed as Merlin feels, and Merlin knows that this wasn’t easy for him. He takes Arthur’s face between his hands and places a soft kiss on his lips. “Thank you.”

* * *


	7. Group C (No Warnings)

**28.**

Merlin peered over the enclosure wall. A single Norse warrior was still about, but being wounded and outnumbered, he was soon overcome. It was then, when his helmet was torn off, that they realised that _he_ was a _she_.

The men thronged around her, laughter rough like pumice on vellum. Merlin did not wait to see what would happen; he ran outside.

They had not yet forced themselves upon her, but someone had undone her plait, and her hair fell like sunshine, all the way to her hips.

"In God's name, stop!"

The warriors parted as Merlin approached.

Their leader turned towards him. "What do you want with an unnatural Norse bitch, brother?"

"To care for her wounds."

The man shrugged; he would not fight a monk. "As you please, brother. She'll stil hang tomorrow, with the others."

 

The infirmary was full, and Merlin was forced to take her to his cell. There was chaos, and no one seemed to mind.

 

"You are wounded." He touched his own arm and grimaced, then pointed at hers.

Her narrow eyes narrowed further. Bold, like someone born to privilege, she reached for the cross around his neck. She fingered it, then studied his tonsure. She was as tall as he was, with a presence that filled the room. Merlin shuddered.

She noticed, and grinned, showing crooked teeth.

She began to undress. She held his gaze while she undid her belt, then struggled with her mail and the layers underneath, until she was down to a cloth wrapped around her bosom.

She let him clean and dress her wound. Though he tried not to look, Merlin saw other scars on her, and muscles that spoke of daily training since childhood.

 

That night, he offered her his bed. He was going to sleep on the floor, but she moved closer to the wall and patted the space next to her. It was like being ordered by an empress, and Merlin obeyed. He lay down at her side.

It was chaste at first, but then she shifted. Her bosom pressed against his shoulder, and the curve of her belly against his hip. In an instant, all the heat in Merlin's body gathered in his loins. Dear God, he was as bad as the men who had wanted to spend their rage in her conquered body.

But he was wrong; she was not conquered at all.

She touched him. His cheek first, then his neck. His stomach, through the cloth of his habit.

And lower.

She whispered a question, and he understood the sentiment, if not the words. He nodded, tongue-tied, vows forgotten.

She rucked up his skirts. She touched his shin, his knee, the nearly hairless skin of his thigh.

And higher.

She kissed him; drank his mouth while her hand moved. And then she stopped. She plucked at his habit, and he nodded again, let her do with it – and him – as she pleased.

Once they were naked, she pulled him on top of her, to lie between her splayed thighs. She guided him inside, and showed him how to move; to be the waves to her shore.

He died in her arms, and she brought him back to life: pillowed his head on her breasts, petted his hair, and kissed him. He fell asleep there, curled up in her warmth.

 

When he woke up, she was leaving.

"Wait," he whispered, knowing he might never see her again. "Tell me your name!"

Somehow she understood.

"Arthur," she said, voice a little rough.

"I'm Merlin."

She smiled, and then she was gone, and Merlin was never the same.

 

A year went by. One summer morning, Merlin went to the shore. There had been no message, no signal; he simply knew. He waited, until at last a dragon ship appeared, small and swift as a serpent.

 

Anyone passing by would have seen a strange sight: a young monk, skirts trailing behind him in the water as he made his way to the ship, and a woman – a warrior queen in a scarlet tunic and golden plaits encircling her head like a crown – jumping overboard to join him.

They met in the middle, hesitated for a moment, and then embraced. The monk's arms stayed around the woman's neck as she lifted him, and carried him back to her ship. They kissed, while men cheered around them and gulls keened, high above.

 

Its mission complete, the dragon turned, headed again for the open sea and the north.

* * *

**29.**

Gwen returns from her Friday morning lecture to find her room in shambles and her roommate in a rather similar state. There's a pile of laundry and other random bits pushed off to the side of the room in front of the open window, both desks and one of the bureaus are in the center of the room, and the other bureau is, upon closer inspection, shoved up next to one of the beds.

In the midst of this all is Morgana. She's standing there wearing only a purple camisole and the ridiculous lime green running shorts she stole off Merlin, a cup of coffee in one hand and a drawing in the other. Her hair's pulled into a messy bun on top of her head; she has her glasses on, too, giving her that serious yet disheveled yet also really hot sort of look.

"It's not a drawing," she replies when Gwen asks about the paper. "It's a map."

"Oh. Of what?" Gwen squints at the drawing. Granted, at this point she's still pre-coffee and post-organic chem, but the paper really doesn't look like a map. "I only see a few squares and... a blob?"

"Yes." Morgana nods and offers Gwen the cup of coffee, then points to the pile of clothes and bags and pillows. "That's the blob, obviously."

"Riiiiight." Gwen gives the paper another look and gives it back to Morgana in exchange for the coffee. "And why are you switching up all the furniture?"

Morgana's shoulders droop for a moment, and she crumples the paper and pitches it onto the nearest desk. She looks despondent, but cheers up a bit when Gwen tugs her over to sit down on one of the beds.

"Well. It was part of a bigger plan," Morgana explains after they've finished the coffee. "I probably ought to have put it into motion when you'd be away from the room longer." She retrieves the map and smoothes the wrinkles out with both hands. "See, once everything else is moved, we can push the two beds together and it'll be like having one huge bed."

"Oh," Gwen says, and then, " _oh_ ," when she realizes what Morgana has in mind. "So, we are... actually, not just... You know. Girlfriends. One word. Not girl-space-friends."

"I thought I'd kissed you enough to make that clear. I suppose not." Morgana tosses the map away once again, this time to the floor, as she leans in to kiss Gwen. First on the cheek, then on the lips, then slipping her tongue in slowly to make Gwen sigh.

And Gwen always seems to sigh the first time Morgana kisses her like that in the morning. It's just a small sound, pleased and quiet, because everything feels so right and good when she and Morgana kiss like that.

Which means that, yes, Gwen ought to be have been able to figure out the bed-thing on her own. But it's only half past nine in the morning, and she and Morgana have only been together for about two weeks, so...

... so, everything is new and different: reaching up to take off Morgana's glasses for her and to kiss her full on the lips; pushing Morgana down onto her own unmade bed, sliding off her shorts and kissing the soft, warm space between her thighs; tugging off her own tee shirt and jeans, letting Morgana slide off her bra and cup her breasts, leaving on her underpants because Morgana especially likes the yellow stripey ones.

The best and newest thing is the sound that Morgana makes when Gwen licks inside her, when she presses in closer and closer, and doesn't stop until Morgana is trembling.

Later, when they're both a mess of sweat-slick tangled limbs and mumbled, kissing murmurs, Gwen promises Morgana she'll help her move the furniture.

Morgana gives her a series of little pleased kisses over her eyelids and nose, and curls in close.

* * *

**30.**

Merlin absolutely did not want to be here.

It was fun the first time Gwen dragged him to the local LGBT speed dating event but now, after the third week in a row of meeting total randoms and knobheads, the only thing keeping him in his chair was the promise of alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol.

Over on the far side of the room, Merlin could see Gwen chatting with the terrifyingly beautiful event organiser. He wanted to shout at them to just kiss already so he could be done with the stupid two minute meet and greets that were more about snap second judgements and hookups than a searching for meaningful long term connections.

Merlin could feel his cynicism bubbling over. Perhaps Gwen was right; he really did need to get laid.

The starting bell sounded as everyone found a seat and Merlin found himself saddled with a youngster who couldn’t have been much more than eighteen.

His name was Daegal and he was so shy he didn’t speak.

When the bell rang out to switch partners Merlin almost sighed in relief.

His next two partners weren’t much better. Merlin was sure Cedric was a thief he’d seen on the news and Julius gave off the vibe of a slimeball. He’d made sure to keep a hand over his drink just in case.

By the time his fifth partner had switched in Merlin didn’t even bother to look up from his drinks menu.

“Hi, I’m Merlin. Virgo. 29. I like long walks on the beach, dogs and margaritas.” He said rotely while contemplating the wisdom of doing some shots. The night might go a bit faster if he was drunk.

The man across from him snorted and Merlin looked up to see blonde hair, blue eyes and a strong jawline.

Ohh this one was a bit fit.

“Yes and my name’s Arthur and I’m a professional race car driver,” the bonde mocked, “but that’s only because I could never follow my dream of becoming an astronaut.”

Fit but an arse.

Merlin glared. OK so maybe he hadn’t been taking this very seriously but that did not give a total stranger the right to take the piss out of him.

They were not mates.

He was no Archbishop of Banterbury.

“I suppose you wanted to be an astronaut because you were just too good for us peons down here on earth.”

Arthur grinned at the accusation.

“I don’t know why you’re insulting me; I could take you apart with one blow. Plus it’s not like anything you just said was the truth!” he crowed.

Merlin frowned. Arthur’s eyes sparkled in challenge and his bottom lip looked plump and inviting. No man should look so attractive while being such an absolute knob.

“Well, my name is Merlin and I am 29,” he admitted as the two minute bell rang.

Arthur remained sitting, eventually forcing the next man waiting to give up in a huff and move on further down the queue.

“And?” he prompted. “Do you actually like long walks on the beach?”

“I don’t often go to the beach; I don’t tan, I burn.” Merlin explained exasperated. “I like dogs but they’re not my favourite. I had a bad experience with a doberman once. I don’t know if I’m a virgo, and to be honest I could never really be arsed enough to find out. And while margaritas aren’t my favourite I think I could drink about five of them right now because I really really need alcohol to deal with you.”

Arthur stared at him in surprise as if he wasn’t expecting Merlin to rise to his challenge.

“Hi Merlin, I’m Arthur and I’ve been to more of these then I’d care to admit because my sister is the organiser and _requires_ my presence,” he said longsufferingly while gesturing to the gorgeous lady Gwen was crushing on. She was currently glaring at a pretty blonde who had taken hold of Gwen’s hand.

Merlin made mental note to update Gwen later.

“Also I think you’re beautiful and I’d really like to take you home with me.”

Merlin inhaled sharply as Arthur reached across the table to grip his hand, the lust between them palpable as Arthur stroked his wrist sending tingles of pleasure down his spine.

Merlin warred with himself internally.

“OK, but if we’re doing this I’m going to need a lot more alcohol,” Merlin conceded, “Also just an fyi, I don’t need one blow to take you apart. I can do it with much less than that.”

Arthur choked at Merlin's dirty tone and Merlin smiled in victory.

What a cabbage head.

* * *

**31.**

Merlin’s heart broke the moment he saw them hugging on the deck.

The night was chilly, stars bright and cold, scattered across the sky like a bag of flour spilled above the world, and Merlin had thought that Arthur and Gwen might need a blanket. Maybe it was silly, but he felt responsible for them—he was the host here in Ealdor, where they were all staying at Merlin’s mum’s summer cabin.

Merlin stood, clutching the blanket in his hands, his heart shattered in millions of pieces just like those stars above. For there was no mistaking the way Gwen nuzzled Arthur’s shoulder, or the way Arthur was pulling her close.

“She’s incredible,” Arthur had said when they’d planned the holiday. Merlin had nodded because yes, Gwen was all kinds of awesome, and if inviting her meant that Arthur would come too, Merlin was all for it. Then Gwaine had decided to tag along for no particular reason, but it was so much better like this: four friends having fun on summer break, no third wheel.

And now everything was fucked.

He was proud that his voice and hands didn’t shake when he handed them the blanket. The grateful look Arthur shot him would have once made Merlin weak in the knees. He turned around and walked back inside the cabin as fast as he could, almost doubling over from spikes of pain. He willed his tears away, wiping at them angrily with the back of his hand when they spilled down his cheeks.

“What, have our lovebirds flown away?” Gwaine asked, looking up from his phone.

“I’m off to sleep,” Merlin mumbled, avoiding Gwaine’s gaze. “Knackered.” He stripped to his boxer briefs and curled up on the bed, not bothering to cover himself with the blankets. The image of Gwen’s head on Arthur’s shoulder burned white hot in his memory, and he knew any attempt at sleep would be futile.

Six fucking years. That was how long he’d been in love with Arthur. He’d thought…

But nothing mattered now.

“Merlin?” The mattress dipped when Gwaine crawled next to him.

“I’m so stupid.” Merlin sniffed, swiping at an errant tear.

Shame, regret, and self-contempt mixed together in a roiling swirl, and he was so overwhelmed he didn’t feel the hug at first. He snuggled closer instinctively, seeking comfort in the warmth of Gwaine’s firm body.

“You’re not stupid,” Gwaine said softly, stroking Merlin’s hair. He was so close his breath tickled Merlin’s face.

“Oh, I am,” Merlin insisted.

“If you’re a fool, then what does that make me?” Gwaine asked. And when Merlin looked up with his eyelashes still sticky with tears, he was stunned at how warm Gwaine’s dark eyes were, at how close Gwaine’s lips were. He took a quick breath, anxious not to make a fool of himself twice in one evening. But Gwaine didn’t let him dwell on it.

The first touch was fleeting, warm and soft, just a press of Gwaine’s lips to Merlin’s. The next kiss was deeper, though, and Merlin gasped as he opened for Gwaine’s tongue. And then it felt as if a fire had been lit inside Merlin, and he grabbed at Gwaine’s arms, clutching him tight.

“Fuck, Merlin,” Gwaine gasped. “Don’t let go.”

So Merlin clung to him as they kissed and kissed, exploring each other’s mouths with their tongues while Gwaine humped Merlin, slowly at first, then frantically pressing his hard cock to Merlin’s erection through all the fabric. And when Merlin was sure he’d come any second, Gwaine pushed him back and scooted down, tugging on Merlin’s pants until Merlin’s cock sprang free.

God, Merlin had never been this hard in his life.

Gwaine’s lips hovered inches from Merlin’s aching prick. He licked and swallowed around the head and Merlin was done. Without any warning he was coming hard, spurting seed into Gwaine’s hot mouth.

He was still gasping for air when Gwaine moved back up to kiss him again, tasting of Merlin’s seed.

“I want…” Merlin said, making a move to reciprocate, stunned that he yearned for it so much, more than he could ever have imagined.

“Next time.” Gwaine smiled, and Merlin noticeda dark wet spot on Gwaine’s boxers.

They looked at each other and laughed, and then kissed some more.

“God, I’ve been such an idiot,” Merlin whispered.

Gwaine hummed in agreement and chuckled when Merlin kicked him in the shin.

They crawled under the blankets together, but Merlin didn’t feel cold any longer.

* * *

**32.**

There was an odd switch in Arthur’s living room. It was in the shape of a dragon and the switch was located on the general area of its crotch, so when the lights were flicked on, it looked like the dragon with a penis had an erection. Elena thought it made some sort of profound statement. Gwaine always cackled when he saw it and made some lewd comment that made everyone groan. Gwen usually turned a little pink but refused to acknowledge the oddness of that switch, and Morgana, whenever she flicked it on, did it with a smirk and a glance around the room. Merlin found the switch almost as hilarious as Gwaine and would giggle along with him.

Arthur, unlike Merlin, was mostly unimpressed. And profoundly uncomfortable.

He didn’t know where it came from. It was just… there, when he’d bought the flat, and he’d assumed it was Morgana’s work.

“Turn him on, Merlin,” Gwaine would say with a wink that would always make Arthur grit his teeth in annoyance. And Merlin would just kiss Arthur on his way to turn on the dragon.

“You did what?” Arthur asked, scowling at Merlin. Merlin just shrugged a bit sheepishly.

“It was an accident. I—“ Merlin tried to say, but he was cut off by a deep, rumbling sound. Arthur nearly jumped. Nearly.

“This is quite handy, young warlock” the voice purred, and Arthur looked around for the source of it.

“Merlin..?” Arthur asked warily, turning his eyes back to Merlin, because the voice seemed to be coming from the switch. “Is the penis dragon talking?”

The lights flicked on and off, and he heard a deep, rumbling laugh. It continued on for a long time as Arthur just stared and Merlin kept looking more and more uncomfortable.

“I uh—I was just cleaning the house with magic, and he started talking. I’m sorry.”

The lights flicked off and on a few more times. Arthur debated just grabbing the switch and making it stop moving, but discarded the idea as gross. It felt too much like touching a dragon’s penis. And wow, there was a thought Arthur hadn’t thought he’d ever have.

“How do we fix this?” Arthur asked after a long time of staring between the smirking dragon, and an increasingly uncomfortable Merlin. He fixed Merlin with a glare.

“I don’t think we can, Arthur,” Merlin said, biting his lip and looking up at Arthur through his eyelashes the way he did only when he was trying to distract Arthur from something he’d messed up. Unfortunately, it worked, and Arthur felt his glare melt away into something softer.

The dragon laughed again. Arthur wanted to smash it with a hammer.

“There is no fixing this,” it said, in that annoying tone. “You have awakened me. I am here until I decide to slumber again.”

And so it was, that the odd switch in Arthur’s living room turned even odder, something Arthur hadn’t thought could happen.

* * *

**33.**

When Arthur had once thought to ask why he was different, they had told him he was human. That he had been switched with a changeling shortly after birth and stolen away to this land of myth and magic.

When Arthur asked if that was why he was so often stared at, his handler had scoffed and told him no. They stared because Arthur was the son of the human king who had thought it wise to banish magic from his land.

“But we showed him, lad. We definitely showed him. The changeling will surely be driving him slowly mad by now.”

So he could have been a prince. Arthur liked that idea – it sure beat being a slave.

He had been sold seven times now, and always for such high prices. Partly because the goblins always drove up the bidding due to their attraction to the golden shine of his hair. And partly because everyone wanted the boasting rights of owning the rightful heir of King Uther.

No one ever kept him though. They all said he was too human.

His latest owner was a warlock with bright blue eyes and an unruly mop of dark hair. He appeared to be close to Arthur’s age, which often left Arthur wondering if he did that to put Arthur at ease or if he truly was so young.

He never asked. Merlin had bought him for sexual release and Arthur figured he was probably better off not knowing the truth.

“Do you have an agenda against my father, too?”

Merlin looked surprised by the question.

“No. Camelot is a small land compared to the rest of the world. Besides, he has already paid his price. He’s insane now and Morgana rules his kingdom.”

“Then what do you get out of this? Do you plan on saving my seed to use for potions?”

Merlin laughed at that and uncrossed his legs.

“Or maybe I just find your human looks pleasing and your inquisitive nature enduring.”

Words left Arthur then, as they often did when he saw Merlin at full hardness.

He still had yet to be properly taken, but that was only because Merlin had been allowing Arthur to set the pace. And so far, all Arthur had wanted to do was touch and worship until he drove himself into a rutting frenzy.

Even as he crawled forward and placed himself between Merlin’s legs, he wondered if he had been bewitched to find such pleasure in this. Seeing the bulge strain against Merlin’s trousers, watching it twitch when he ran his fingers over it; it gave him a heady illusion of power that he never had before.

This time, however, when he wrapped his fist around the cloth-covered erection, he felt a pressure close around his own member. With a glance down to confirm nothing was there, he quickly figured out the sensation was Merlin’s doing, despite the man’s half-lidded eyes and parted lips.

Leaning in, Arthur mouthed Merlin’s shaft and felt heat seep against his own that sent shivers up his spine. He tongued at the spongy head and let out a groan as he felt something prod just to the left of his slit.

“—What…?”

“Harder,” was all Merlin ordered, slouching further in his chair.

Arthur obeyed, squeezing him with a grip strengthened by years of hard labor and letting out a cry as his own hips thrust forward into the tight channel that wasn’t actually there.

He soon lost himself in the pleasure, hips pushing forward into the ghostly touches as he jerked, kneaded, and mouthed at Merlin, desperate for release, but unable to fully achieve it.

“This is what you do to me,” Merlin explained through labored breaths. “This is why I want you.”

Arthur moaned in response.

“I’m going to _come_ ,” the word came out strained and it took Merlin a moment to continue, “and then you’ll finally understand.”

Arthur’s fingers scrambled to free Merlin from his pants, desperate to intimately witness his penis swell and ejaculate. His tongue immediately sought the taste of the precum that shone wetly on the head and his eyes rolled back as he felt Merlin swell in his hand before ecstasy washed over him.

It was like nothing Arthur had ever experienced. He could feel Merlin’s pleasure override his own and could do nothing but hold on as both orgasms thoroughly wrecked him. Even after Merlin was done, Arthur continued to pulse almost violently in his trousers, the wet spot against the cloth continuing to grow larger and larger.

Almost distantly, he was aware of Merlin petting his hair as he sobbed into his lap.

“Shh. Shh. Do you understand now?”

Shuddering as he slowly floated back down, Arthur nodded. Despite their positions, he was the one in control.

Because what he might come to feel for Merlin would never compare to what Merlin already felt for him.

* * *

**34.**

“You need to stop, Merlin.”

The voice doesn’t sound angry, just... tired. It’s coming from the bed, where Arthur’s lying on his back against the pillows, watching him. What he says isn’t news -- of course Merlin knows it’s ridiculous to switch the light on and off twelve times before going to bed. He’s not an idiot. Normal people don’t do that every night. He knows that.

Eleven.

“I know.”

Twelve.

They both know.

*

It’s difficult when the thoughts set in. What if something happens and he hasn’t performed the ritual to prevent it? He knows he’d feel incredibly guilty, being the reason for someone else hurting... He wouldn’t be able to deal with it. What if something happens to Arthur? Or Gwen, Morgana, his mum? So much can go wrong in a day: car accidents, terrorist attacks, random crazy people, getting mugged, falling into the road, falling into the _river_ , getting infected with something that’ll kill you...

Closing his eyes and breathing through his nose, Merlin leans his forehead against the cool wall. He’s holding his finger above the light switch, but isn’t flicking the lights off yet. It’s the twelfth one and it won’t feel right, he knows it. He will need to start over. That makes him feel even worse, because he shouldn’t do this at all. It’s ridiculous, ridiculous, _ridic--_

“Help me,” he says, voice so soft it’s barely audible.

But Arthur always hears Merlin. Always.

*

Every time Merlin gets fucked from behind, he buries his face in the pillows and lets the tears come. Arthur soothingly runs his hands over his ribs and back, murmuring sweet nothings, trying to calm him down. He doesn’t understand it’s tears of relief -- that being allowed to let go is the only time Merlin actually can let himself be happy. The only time worry isn’t devouring him from the inside out.

Unfortunately, it never lasts for long.

It lasts through Arthur’s cock hitting that hot spot inside him; through Arthur holding him down roughly; through them both coming; through Arthur kissing him gently afterwards... but later, in the bathroom, when Merlin looks at the man with dark shadows under his eyes who’s staring back at him from the mirror, the anxiety hits him twice as hard.

He turns away so he doesn’t have to see more of what he’s become, closes the door and flicks the light switch as he starts counting.

One, two...

*

Four, five.

There are days he wishes he’d never been born.

Six, seven.

*

Every time he manages to turn off the lights -- which always happens sooner or later -- Arthur kisses him, wraps his arms around him, and holds him close as he slowly falls into sleep. It makes Merlin feel safe.

Still, the feeling of failure never falls asleep like Arthur does.

*

“Merlin, we’re going to the Fringe Festival this weekend! Leon’s borrowing us his flat, and I’ve managed to book us cheap train tickets to Edinburgh and everything!”

For normal people, surprise weekend trips are something nice. Arthur’s doing something nice for him. Merlin has no right feeling himself go tense and awkward, he should feel grateful. He grips the table behind him for support.

“Sounds nice,” he says, and manages a smile.

*

Nine, ten... no. _Fuck!_ So close.

One, two, three... no.

One... no.

One...

“Merlin.”

Arthur is right behind him, body radiating warmth. His hand closes over Merlin’s, forcing him to stop.

“Merlin, _please_.”

“I...” Merlin takes a deep breath, tries to keep his voice from shaking. “I--I can’t stop.”

It’s difficult, saying those words, but’s the closest he can get to explaining how much he worries. He can’t explain exactly how worthless he feels, or how he can’t deal with things everyone else thinks are normal, or how he might accidentally kill all of them if he just makes a simple mistake and forgets. How repeating pointless rituals keeps him just out of reach of the crippling guilt and fear.

Arthur doesn’t understand, but he tries to. Leaning in to place a gentle kiss on Merlin’s cheek, he moves his hand off Merlin’s before sighing and returning to bed.

“I love you,” he says.

Merlin swallows.

One, two, three.

“I love you, too.”

Four, five, six.

* * *

**35.**

Gwen was a simple fairy who enjoyed the little things in life. These included; flying through the air right after a rainstorm, snoozing on flowers, and feeling the fur of a tarantula as she hitched a ride on his back.

The little things she enjoyed also included a bit of physical pleasure. She had cum by her own hand more times than she had fingers and toes but there was something missing.

One day, as she was explaining her lackluster self-sex life to her friend Morgana, she had an idea.

The humans were great at physical pleasure! Everything she had seen and read suggested that they knew way more than the fairies did about it. She decided that night to visit a human's house to observe. She pleaded with Morgana to go with her.

Morgana eventually gave in, she wasn't as trusting of the humans as Gwen, and they set the time to leave.

At the human's house they watched as the humans climbed into bed and flicked off the light before entering the house.

~~~

"There must be something here," Gwen sighed, exasperated. Morgana shrugged and flitted around the room.  
They had been searching the gigantic human books for hours to no avail. Morgana got bored after the first hour and had been entertaining herself by looking around the humans' house.

"Gwen! What about this?!" Gwen flew over to where Morgana was hovering to take a look at what she was referring to.

It was white and big. It had two giant screws keeping it to the wall and a knob was protruding out of it, pointing downwards.

"What is it?" Gwen looked, perplexed, at Morgana.

"I believe it's what the humans call a light switch, though I don't see any light coming from it," Morgana paused and smirked, turning to Gwen.

"Do you think want to try it?"

Gwen considered it and then smiled slightly.

"Are you sure that's what it's for?"

Morgana smiled and flicked the switch upwards for a better angle. The light in the reading room that they were in flicked on and Morgana laughed.

"That's why it's called a light switch."

Gwen giggled, feeling extremely naughty. She lowered her pants and spread her legs on top of the knob. The smooth, hard plastic slid into her easily. She groaned, throwing her head back. It felt so full and good inside of her. Morgana felt her own panties become wet and reached down into them to touch herself.

Gwen moaned, the fairies had nothing like this. She reached down and used two fingers to circle her clit.

Morgana had never watched anyone masturbate before and was surprised at how much watching Gwen bounce up-and-down on the light switch effected her.

Between the fullness and the pressure on her clit, Gwen felt herself coming surprisingly quickly. She rode out her orgasm and heaved out loud breaths. She trembled with pleasure.

"F-fuck," Morgana moaned out as let herself climax.

"That was amazing. Humans are amazing, oh my gosh," Gwen still could not catch her breath.

"I don't think humans are the only ones who are amazing here," Morgana said softly. Gwen caught Morgana's eye and blushed. Morgana flew over to her and planted a filthy kiss on her lips.

"It's my turn next time," she said when they parted. Gwen laughed.

* * *

**36.**

Merlin knew Gwen felt bad about dating the straight bloke Merlin had been crushing on since their 7th year, and he knew Gwen had become great friends with that bloke’s sister, but he still could not have felt more surprised when the sister in question, Morgana Pendragon, cornered him near the library and asked him out to the cinema.

“Um,” he said, because if his rainbow pin wasn’t enough, he was fairly certain his reputation around the school should have clued her into the fact that he wasn’t exactly interested in what she had to offer.

Morgana rolled her eyes. “Obviously I know you like cock—I’m counting on it, even—but my _parents_ don’t know you like cock, and that makes you perfect,” she said with a wicked little grin. “So, meet me at the cinema at 8, alright? Wait, no—we’re going to dinner first. Meet me at the pub on 5th at 6:30, and we’ll go to the cinema afterward, good? Wonderful. Cheerio!”

And she was gone, leaving a very confused Merlin in her wake.

—

Merlin went to the pub, because he wasn’t about to stand up a friend of Gwen’s, even if he had no fucking idea what was going on. When he got there, Morgana was already sitting at a table—along with Gwen and Mr. Straight Bloke, Arthur Pendragon. Apparently the universe just loved fucking with Merlin.

“Hi,” Merlin said, because they’d spotted him now, and fleeing the scene was no longer an option. “I didn’t know that this was going to be a double date.”

“Well, now you do!” Gwen said cheerily, and the dinner might have gone fine, if Arthur hadn’t been an absolute nightmare.

Arthur kept _doing_ things—licking his lips, stealing Merlin’s chips, giving Merlin this _look_ like he wanted to eat him. Gwen, however, didn’t seem to notice—she just chattered away with Morgana. It was driving Merlin up the wall.

—

The drive to the cinema was fine, but by the time the film was halfway over, Arthur had already slung his arm over Merlin’s should, whispered in his ear _twice_ , and rubbed his hand over Merlin’s knee. The universe really was intent on fucking with Merlin. At least the theater was dark enough to hide how turned on Merlin was.

—

“Oh, don’t be daft, Merlin. We’ll drive you home,” Morgana had said. Twenty minutes later, standing inside the Pendragon’s house, Merlin got the feeling that he had grossly misunderstood what she’d meant by “home”.

“You must be Merlin,” said Uther Pendragon, giving Merlin a very firm and frankly terrifying handshake. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Oh yes, Morgana has told us so much about you!” said Ygraine. “You’re welcome here any time, of course.”

“Would they be welcome right now?” asked Morgana before Merlin could sputter any confused gibberish at her parents. “It’s quite late, and I’d hate to send Gwen and Merlin home when we have plenty of space here. Might they spend the night?”

“Oh, of course,” said her mother, “Girls, you can share Morgana’s room, and Arthur, would you mind—”

“Of course, Mum,” Arthur said. “Merlin can share with me.”

Merlin wondered if this was what it felt like to have the universe’s dick personally fuck him up the ass.

They hadn’t been in Arthur’s room for more than a minute before Arthur started shucking off his shirt, baring his pale, toned chest for Merlin’s ogling eyes.

“Um,” said Merlin, “I can leave while you—”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Merlin,” Arthur said, grinning. Then he gestured over to the wall where a stream of hushed giggles could be heard coming from Morgana’s room. “Do you really think they’re having pillow fights and braiding each other’s hair?”

Suddenly, all the puzzle pieces seemed to fall into place. “Oh my god,” Merlin said, “I’m Morgana’s beard.”

“And Gwen is mine,” Arthur said. He took a step closer to Merlin. “Can I suck you off now? I’ve been waiting all evening.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Merlin whined, and Arthur took that as a yes. He dropped to his knees and started unbuttoning Merlin’s trousers, and _holy shit,_ Arthur Pendragon was going to give him a blowjob. “Arthur, I thought you were—”

“Heterosexual? In the vagina business? Straight?” Arthur supplied, then looked up at him through his lashes. “Let me show you how _not straight_ I am.”

When Arthur’s lips closed around his cock, Merlin decided that maybe the universe wasn’t trying to fuck him over after all.

* * *

**37.**

Morgana wishes she could paint so that she could do justice to the perfect architecture of Gwaine’s face, could capture every hard line and soft curve of Gwaine’s body so that, long after they’ve died, the world might still remember how enduringly beautiful Gwaine is.

They fuck in the kitchen and the shower and the snow-covered picnic table in the garden, in the fitting room at the shop and the front seat of Gwaine’s car just because they _can_ , because it’s exciting and novel.

Gwaine’s lips are soft, stubble rough, hands skilled. Every time they fuck, it’s like a goddamn revelation, the world opening up to Morgana in ways she’d never imagined. Having his cock clutched hot and deep in her cunt sometimes feels like the only thing that gives her life purpose. She’d drown in him if he’d let her. She wakes up to his hard cock pressed tight against her arse and manoeuvres them, angles him inside her, rocks back until they’re pressed snugly together. These moments of being utterly consumed by him are what keep her breathing.

 

 

 

 

+++

Gwaine’s belly hangs over his jeans and he’s got razor burn and the way his nose whistles while he breathes makes Morgana want to suffocate him. He didn’t text last night to say he’d be late, and Morgana knows— _knows_ —it’s because he was busy flirting with that fucking bitch at work. Morgana has seen the Facebook likes, the lunch dates on Gwaine’s phone. She knows Gwaine just goes to work to get away from her, to spend his day happy to be free of her temper. He probably told everyone about how she threatened to cut herself two nights ago because Gwaine didn’t want to watch her favourite film again. He’s going to leave her someday, and it will be all her fault.

 

 

 

 

+++

“Fuck you!” Morgana screams, because it’s scream or cry, and she can’t cry anymore. “If you want to leave, then fucking leave; see if I’m here when you get back.”

Gwaine reaches out for her, and she shivers away, holds herself in tight because if she doesn’t, everything in her might fall out. “You you don’t get to touch me. Not ever again.” Even as she says it, the sense of loss is unbearable and she wants to take it back, but pride won’t let her.

“Morgana,” he says, and his voice is firm, steady, infuriating. “If you make me leave without holding you, you’ll hate yourself.”

He’s right, and she knows it, hates him for it. She lets him pull her down onto the settee, tuck her head against his shoulder. “You don’t even fucking care. I’ll be dead by the time you get back anyway.”

“No, you won’t,” he says, hand soothing over her shoulder.

The anger crawls up Morgana’s throat. “Don’t tell me what I’ll do. You don’t know what it’s like. I’m fucking nothing. I just hurt people.”

“You won’t do it,” Gwaine says, “because you know I love you.”

“Bullshit.”

Gwaine grabs Morgana’s chin, forces her to look at him, and she’s tempted to spit in his face.

“You’re hilarious and fun,” Gwaine says. “I love how honest you are, the way you bare yourself to the world. You’re brilliant and creative, and the things you do with your mouth—”

Morgana laughs, and it makes a stream of snot shoot out of her nose. “Oh, that’s attractive,” she says, wiping her face on Gwaine’s shoulder. He takes the moment to kiss her forehead. It calms her.

“You must hate me so much,” Morgana whispers, something hot clutching at her heart, wrapping her up tighter than Gwaine’s arms ever could. “You’d be better off without me.”

Gwaine kisses her mouth—firm, resolute. “I have to go,” he says.

Morgana tenses, rams her fists into his chest and tries to shove him away. “You’re going to tell them all what a fucking cunt I am.”

“I’m going to tell them all that you’re doing well, that you just got a promotion at work, that you’ve been winning some very important fights on the internet.” Gwaine lays kisses all over her face, light, fluttery pecks that tickle her, forcing a smile. “And they’ll say they wish you could have made it, that you’re always so fun, and I’ll tell them you wish you could be there too.”

Morgana sighs, slumps over to curl up on her side. “Sorry I’m the worst,” she says.

Gwaine doesn’t dignify that with a reply.

* * *

**38.**

Arthur could still hear Merlin’s words echoing in his head. _My mother’s dead_ It was like the bottom had dropped out of both of their worlds.

Arthur was glued to Merlin side from then on. He helped Merlin plan his mother’s funeral and had been his shoulder to cry on the whole time. He stuffed down his own emotions, which he had more than a little practice with.

Unfortunately, after the funeral Merlin pulled back from Arthur. His behavior was erratic and counter to the Merlin they always knew.

Merlin was almost never home and when he was he reeked of cheap alcohol. He was rude and inconsiderate.

Arthur knew it wasn’t healthy. But he felt it would be a bit hypocritical to come down on him, since a lot of people would question Arthur’s own way of expressing grief - which was not to express it at all and just throw himself into his studies.

That resolve wavered when Merlin started bringing home random men. Arthur had to continue to stuff down not only his concern for Merlin, but his jealousy as well. It was his own fault for not telling Merlin how he felt in fear of ruining their friendship.

One night, Merlin popped into his room. He rudely yanked out Arthur’s earpieces.

“Do you have any condoms, mate?”

“No. I guess you’ll have to send home your latest bedmate.”

Merlin snickered. “Why would I do that?”

“You don’t have any condoms?”

Merlin shrugged. “It’s not like I haven’t gone without before. I just decided to ask because Cenred wanted me to. I’m sure he’ll be fine with it.” Merlin left.

That was it. He stalked over to Merlin’s room. Merlin and the mop of hair he’d brought home were snogging. Arthur ripped the man away from Merlin. “Get. Out!”

The man started to argue, but thought better of it at Arthur’s growl. He stalked out.

To Arthur’s surprise, Merlin just laughed. “If you wanted a turn Arthur, you just had to ask.”

Arthur furrowed his brow.

“I know you’re jealous.”

“I’m worried about you, Merlin. I want to help.”

“The way you helped the night my mother died?”

Arthur was still struck dumb for a second and felt guilty for not being there that night.

“I…”

Merlin interrupted. “Look Arthur I get it. There is a certain rush in spending your life blisteringly numb and going from party to party. I’m having so much fun.”

“No, you’re not.”

Merlin sauntered closer to him. “I could be.” He gazed at Arthur’s cock.

Arthur decided he would try to jolt Merlin back to his senses. He pushed Merlin up against the wall. “Is this what you want?”

Merlin licked his lips.

“Do you want me to tell you that I want you and have thought of a moment like this before?” He nuzzled Merlin’s neck.

Merlin palmed at his cock.

“It would be so easy to bury myself in you. I know it would feel so good.” Arthur felt so many feelings fighting their way to the surface.

Arthur pulled back. Merlin was staring at him with wide eyes.

“There’s only one problem with that? It doesn’t stop the grief from coming back.”

Merlin’s started to squirm.

“I know.” Arthur held back tears. “I think of your mother every time I have breakfast and reach for a jar of marmalade. I remember her trying to teach us how to make it. I find myself listening to jazz music and remember the first time she taught me to dance. She’s all around us, Merlin.”

Arthur put his head on Merlin’s shoulder. “I know you don’t want to feel it, Merlin, but you have to.” When he felt Merlin’s arms around him, he sobbed. “I have to.”

Merlin wiped at his tears.

Arthur could see the moment it hit Merlin all at once. “I miss her so much, Arthur.” He stifled a sob. “Oh, God, I miss her.”

His knees buckled and the only thing that partially held him up was the wall and Arthur’s strong arms holding him to his chest.

They both finally let go of everything they had been holding in and finally leaned on each other.

~*~

They spent the entire night in each other’s arms and shared their favorite memories of Hunith. In the morning Merlin got up and made Hunith’s favorites to honor her.

They ate in silence, the longest stretch of quiet in hours.

Merlin cleared his throat. “Arthur, last night the things you said...about wanting me...was that…?

Arthur interrupted him. “I meant everything I said last night, Merlin. Everything.”

Arthur was rewarded with the first genuine smile he’d seen from Merlin in ages.

* * *

**39.**

Red or blue.

That's what it comes down to.

Choice.

 

8 6 5  **9**  2 4 7 0 2    0 6 4 2  **ß**

4    7 2 3    8 5     **6**  3 5    8 0

7     **2**  7       ß 2    5    8     **3**  8

     8             3          ß    6  

 

 

_It's time to wake up, Arthur__

 

The computer blinks at him.

 

_They know who you are__

 

Arthur rubs the sleep from his eyes with a frown.

 

_You have to follow the dragon__

 

There's a knock on the door.

 

8 6     **9**  2 4 7 0       0 6 4 2  **6** **  
**

4    ß 2 3    8 5     **7**  3 5    8 0

7     **2**  7        **4**  2    5    8     **3**  8

     8             3          ß    6  

 

The club is filled with a writhing mass of bodies, moving in and out of Arthur's perception in the sharp cadence of the stereoscopic light. The rhythm of the music is a throb in his body, low and heavy, slightly off beat with his heart. For a second, Arthur isn't sure if this is real or if he's dreaming.

From one flash of light to the next, he's there. A man, pale and lithe, with short, dark hair. Ears. He’s staring right at Arthur. When he comes towards him, it's with the unusual grace of a dancer, his eyes glued to Arthur like he's the man’s single point of focus.

Arthur's cock fills, hot and hard inside his trousers.

The man’s shirt hangs open, and when he’s in front of him, Arthur can see the dragon tattoo on his chest, right above the heart. His pulse quickens. The man gives Arthur a meaningful look as he moves past him. Arthur follows.

He follows him through the surging crowd, bodies slick with sweat and high with the poison of their choice. Follows him along a dark corridor where it's hot and humid but the music is less consuming, and when the man stops and turns around, Arthur is breathing hard, dizzy with anticipation.

He’s half expecting it, but it's still a shock when the man crowds him against the wall, close, so close Arthur is sure he must feel the hammering of his heart. The man’s breath ghosts warm and damp along Arthur’s jaw, and when long fingers comb into his hair and pull him forward, the man’s mouth is even hotter.

The kiss is wild and wet, the man much stronger than he looks, holding Arthur captive with his body, rutting his erection into the crease of Arthur’s thigh.

"Arthur..."

A whisper against the shell of his ear.

''How do you know--?’’

''Because I know  _you_.’’

They move together, a frenzy of not enough friction, of the man’s hands inside his trousers, fingers tracing Arthur’s crack, of Arthur sucking bruises over the man’s collarbone, of teeth and lips and more.

More. Please, god, more.

From up close the man’s eyes are impossibly blue. Even more impossible is the tinge of gold.

''Who are you?’’ Arthur gasps.

''My name is Merlin.’’

''You are--’’

Merlin is a legend. The greatest hacker of all time.

''More important is who you are, Arthur.''

Gentle fingers brush along his cheek.

''You can’t imagine how long I’ve been waiting for you.’’

Arthur shakes his head, trying to clear it.

"What does that--"

The fingers press against his mouth.

"Not here. They know."

 

8 **6**  5    2 6 7 0 2    0  **ß** 6 4   

4    7    3    8 ß     **6**  3 5    8 0

7     **2**  7       5 2    5    8     **3**  6

     8             3           2      9 

 

Arthur has always felt it. Something is wrong with the world. But he could never quite put his finger on it. At night he rides the wave of electrical blips, the stream of data, looking for the answer, but he's not even sure he has the right question.

The doors to the elevator open. Three men in suits and sunglasses step out onto the office floor.

The telephone rings.

 

8 6     **9**  2 4 7 0 2    0 6 4 2  **ß**

4    7 2       8 5     **6**  3 5    8 0

7     **2**  7       ß 2    5    8     **3**  8

     8             3          ß    6  

 

The room is strange. Mostly empty. Run down. But the bed is comfortable. Merlin moves on his cock, undulating his hips as he rides Arthur. Always along the edge. The exhilarating drop just out of reach. Merlin’s hot, so hot inside, but it’s still not enough.

Merlin’s own cock is a long hard curve. Beautiful. Arthur wraps his hand around it. Drinks in Merlin's expressions like a man dying of thirst. His flushed cheeks. The bright eyes. Those breathless, little gasps.

_Beautiful._

When Merlin comes, he clenches around Arthur, wrings out the orgasm he's been denying him for what feels like eternity. Arthur stares as the splatter of milky white drops on his chest, wondering if there's a message for him to decipher.

 

            3       6      **2**  0           **0**

**7**  9        ****4           7    5 8

      8 3     **2** 3           ß       7

6        **9**        0                       2

 

Red or blue.

There are two pills in Merlin's hand. Choice.

Truth or Ignorance.

Arthur has never liked lies. The world feels wrong. The sun. The colours. Human touch. He picks up the red pill and swallows it dry.

 

Reality blinks out.

  

Arthur is under water with no breath in his lungs. His body is convulsing violently. Arthur struggles, breaks the surface, gasps. He's in a pod. His skin is milky white. There are cords and tubes sticking in his body. Arthur wants to vomit.

A hand on his shoulder makes him stop. Makes everything stop.

Warm blue eyes are looking at him.

This. This feels right.

The truth.

Finally.

 

* * *

**40.**

The church ceiling loomed high with old wooden beams that creaked in the wind.

Merlin was already waiting in a pew, her long hair draped over one shoulder. The last time Arthur had seen her, she’d been across a battlefield, too far away for Arthur to make out her features, but he’d known her anyway by the pillar of fire she sent their way. No one else could conjure them that big.

Merlin turned her head to him as he approached.

Arthur raised an incredulous eyebrow at her. “You expect me to believe you slipped your entire guard?”

“You said to come alone.”

“But you didn’t.”

Merlin shrugged sheepishly and flapped a hand at the back of the church, where Morgana emerged from the shadows like a damn ghost.

Arthur hadn’t seen his sister since she defected, almost a year ago; he found his mouth curling up in a helpless smile. Morgana returned it with tense nod.

Merlin was beaming like a fool when he turned back to her. “So? You want to come over to our side, then?”

“No! What? I thought you wanted to switch to my side?”

“What?!”

They stared at each other in mutual horror. Merlin threw back her head, sucking in air, and Arthur could tell where this was going—another endless argument, another set of impossible plans for ending this damnable war. He said the first thing that came to mind:

“You should marry me.”

Merlin cocked her head to one side, looking confused. “What would that serve, though? Uther would call you a traitor; my people would disown me. It would just divide the ranks—”

“Are you— Not for politics, you daft idiot. For—,” and here Arthur could not quite get out the word _love_ so he gestured wildly between them, trying to indicate whatever glorious and inexplicable pull there was that had him sneaking out of camp, crossing enemy lines, and all to sit on a hard pew for a few minutes while a goddamn sorceress rolled her eyes at him.

Merlin was busy looking insultingly surprised. “Oh!” she said eventually.

They both faced front, and Arthur could feel his cheeks pink. “Trust you to ruin a marriage proposal.”

Merlin scoffed. “Well, what the hell kind of proposal was that anyhow, _you should marry me_ , for God’s sake.”

“You want me to kneel?”

Merlin sniffed primly. “Wouldn’t hurt.”

Arthur snatched a glance at her out of the corner of his eye. She, too, was a little pink, and Arthur experienced a hopeful swoop in his gut.

He stood, shuffled out of the pew, turned to face her, and made a show of sinking to one knee.

“Merlin, High Priestess of…whatever it is, sorry.”

“Albion,” Morgana hissed.

“Albion,” Arthur repeated and swallowed hard. “Will you marry me?”

Merlin sucked in a breath, held it. And for an uncanny moment, she looked every inch the sorceress that people said she was: unearthly, power coming out her pores. And then she shrugged, her bony little shoulders jerking. “Yeah, all right.”

It turned out that this ramshackle church had a priest associated with it, a spindly fellow with four or five teeth in his mouth and, it appeared, a lingering allegiance to the Old Religion. He went tongue-tied whenever he had to address Merlin but had no idea who Arthur was. The marriage ceremony was a weird mix of Jesus Christ and ancient spirits, with some blasphemous confusing of the Holy Trinity and the Triple Goddess, and Arthur could feel the horror showing on his face, but then Merlin giggled at him, her eyes sparking gold.

Arthur was going straight to hell, and he didn’t even care.

“You two going to fuck?” Morgana asked, deadpan, after it had finished.

“Morgana,” Merlin said, but yes, yes that was happening.

They were the given the priest’s own little cell, where Merlin sat on the cot and pulled up her skirts, skinny white legs emerging from underneath, and damn if the sight of her knobbly, perfect knees didn’t make him go hard in his trousers.

“What if,” she said, even as he wrestled off his belt and trousers. “Neither of us will _switch sides_. We’ll make a third side.”

Arthur fell on top of her , his cock slipping against her thighs and heat . “We can talk politics _later_ , Christ on a—” His breath caught in his throat when he got it in, and oh damn.

Merlin was pink-faced and smiling under him. “Okay.”

* * *

**41.**

Merlin raises an eyebrow when Arthur orders a particularly expensive bottle of wine for their dinner.

Arthur only arches one back. "It's not just any old date night, is it?"

"Hmm," is the only thing Merlin can answer, but he looks up through his eyelashes as he toys with the fork between his fingers.

Arthur's hand creeps higher on Merlin's thigh on the drive home, and Merlin shivers. The fabric of his slacks is tenting, and when he glances over, he sees Arthur's in the same predicament, one hand tight on the wheel.

"Me first," Arthur blurts as soon as they get through the front door, and Merlin almost falls over as he stumbles out of his shoes and shirt.

"Yes. Anything." They should have had the foresight to move their bag downstairs, but instead Merlin pins Arthur against the wall on the staircase, pictures swinging in their wake as Merlin bites at Arthur's lips.

They're both breathing hard by the time they reach the top and Arthur's stripping off his boxers just as they reach the bedroom. Arthur goes straight for the duffel bag in the closet, but Merlin stops him to draw him in a gentling kiss. He makes it deeper, but slower, petting at Arthur's shoulders absently.

Once Arthur's calm again, Merlin pushes him to sit on the bed, then retrieves their stuff.

He returns with a long length of rope, red, and a shiny pair of safety scissors.

"Stand up." Arthur does, and Merlin starts by putting the rope loosely around his neck, then some strategically placed knots. He finishes with plenty of criss-crossing up and down, with lots of pull throughs that make the whole harness vibrate and Arthur shudder at the knot placed right at the base of his balls.

Arthur's skin is a stark contrast to the red rope and his cock juts out from one of the criss-crossed diamonds. Merlin pushes him back to lay on the bed.

"Perfect," Merlin whispers, and Arthur lets out a long slow breath.

Arthur likes to be held when tied like this, so Merlin curls up to his side and pulls him close, one hand tugging on the rope to make the harness dig in, and the other starting to stroke at Arthur's cock.

He cries out as Merlin coaxes an orgasm out of him, leaning into the harness so it cuts into his skin. Merlin twangs the rope with a finger, and Arthur swears, oversensitive.

Merlin burrows into Arthur's shoulder as he waits for the sweat to dry on their skin. Arthur never takes too long.

Arthur doesn't bother taking off the harness after he sits up. Instead, he grabs several new lengths of rope, bright blue this time, and stalks on his knees up the bed to where Merlin's positioned himself on the pillows.

"Gotcha," he says, and starts wrapping Merlin's calf to his thigh, tying securely, then doing the other leg. Next comes his forearms tied to his thigh ropes, so he's left on his back, knees spread and in the air, with barely the momentum to thrust upwards.

"Oh yes," Arthur grins, and Merlin glares at him. They don't like to use a gag, but Merlin prefers not to speak anyway.

The moans he can't stop, as Arthur licks up his cock, giving him much too little, staying soft and wet around the shaft instead of the suction that he needs to get off.

"Not enough?" Arthur says softly, eyes crinkled, and Merlin tries to kick him. Tries and fails, and Arthur has to reposition him before turning back to his cock, massaging the backs of his thighs and around his hole.

Finally Arthur gives in to Merlin's whimpers and swallows him down. Merlin can't help but buck upwards, no momentum, but what he can get from his abs, and Arthur chokes just as Merlin comes down his throat.

Arthur sucks him through it and runs a soothing hand over Merlin stomach afterwards, waiting for his breaths to even out before untying him. Red rope marks ring his calves, thighs, and arms, and Merlin rubs at him before undoing Arthur's harness. It's the same process, but in reverse, so Arthur's shuddering from sensitivity again by the time Merlin's done with the pull throughs and frees him from the rope. Arthur has diamonds of red marks on his skin to match Merlin's.

Arthur kisses him thoroughly, deep and gentle while Merlin plays with his hair.

"Happy Anniversary, love."

* * *


	8. Group D (No Warnings)

**42.**

Morgan and Gwyn first meet in a Medieval Literature course at uni. Their mates tease them mercilessly about being polar opposites, but they could care less. They're in love, and; _"Anyone who has a problem with it can go fuck themselves,"_ Morgan says. 

[](http://imgur.com/LjEptfY)

* * *

**43.**

One thing that Arthur loves about the modern era is all the _buttons_ everything has, and all the strange things that happen when he switches them on. The internal-nets thing is especially helpful, Arthur's going to use it to investigate the objects hidden in Merlin's nightstand - he's never seen anything with so many settings and switches!

[](http://imgur.com/RTy0DBY)

* * *

**44.**

Movie night gets canceled due to rogue crotchless panties. Merlin would be lying if he said this was the first time something like this has happened. 

[](http://imgur.com/1fmnSbn)

* * *

**45.**

Arthur presses all the buttons.

[](http://imgur.com/Id0BB6u)

* * *

**46.**

[](http://imgur.com/dWKu2CA)

* * *

**47.**

Fun times with bodyswapping!

[](http://imgur.com/v94UFcI)

* * *

**48.**

[click for bigger version](http://i.imgur.com/y5aaIRd.jpg)

[](http://imgur.com/8RkAMLK)

* * *


End file.
